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^ 



T3-3:iS 



VOL 



ISTH 

y r 

OF 



.j3 



/^ ^ 



^bra, 



mf the ^Rtarior 




shakesfkare's garden at new place. 



SHAKESPEARE'S 



COMEDY OF 



ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 



Edited, with Notes, 



WILLIAM J. ROLFE, Litt.D., 

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CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Introduction to All 's Well That Ends Well 9 

I. The History of the Play 9 

II. The Sources of the Plot 11 

III. Critical Comments on the Play 11 

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 35 

Act 1 37 

" n 53 

"I" 77 

" IV. 93 

" V ,. 113 

Notes 129 




" Thus, Indian-like, 
Religious in mine error, I adore 
The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, 
But knows of him no more." 

(i. 3. 194-197.) 




BOCCACCIO. 

INTRODUCTION 

TO 

ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 



I. THE HISTORY OF THE PLAY. 

All V Well was first printed in the folio of 1623, where it 
occupies pages 230-254 in the division of Comedies. There 
can be Httle doubt, we think, that the play is a revision of 
the "Love Labours Wonne" included in Meres's often-quoted 
list (see our ed. of M. N. D, p. 9), as was first suggested by 
Farmer in his Essay on the Learning of Shakespeare. If so, 
it is probable that it was originally a companion play to 
Love's Labour V Lost^ and written about the same time, or 
not far from 1592. Knight, Ulrici, and some other critics 



lO ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

put the date earlier than 1590. The marks of early work 
are seen in the frequent rhymed passages (some of them in 
alternate rhymes), the sonnet letter in iii. 4. 4-17, the lyrical, 
non- dramatic form of certain portions, and some peculiar 
grammatical constructions.* 

The date of the revision of the play was probably not ear- 
lier than 1601, and may have been a year or two later. Fur- 
nivall makes it 1601-2; Dowden (who, however, is doubtful 
whether any part of the play is of early origin), " about 1602 ;" 
Fleay and Stokes, 1604; Gervinus and Collier, 1605 or 1606. 

The text presents many difficulties, on account of the pe- 
culiarities of the style and the corruptions of the folio, Ver- 
planck remarks : "The language approaches in many places 
to the style of Measure for Measure., as if much of it had 
been written in that season of gloom which imparted to the 
poet's style something of the darkness that hung over his 
soul. In addition to these inherent difficulties, there are 
several indications of an imperfect revision, as if words and 
lines intended to be rejected had been left in the manuscript, 

* See Stokes, Chronol. Order of Shakespeare^ s Plays, p. no, or Fleay, 
Mufmal, p. 224. Most of these earlier passages — " boulders from the old 
strata imbedded in the later deposits," as Fleay calls them — will be 
easily recognized by the reader. 

It may be added that, though Fleay sees earlier and later work in the 
play, he says, in his Introd. to Shaks. Study, p. 25 (he was doubtful on the 
point when he published the earlier Manual) : " It is not, however, as 
shown by Mr. Brae, a later version of Love''s Labour 'j- Won. The present 
title is alluded to in several places in the play itself, which are clearly 
part of the early work." Admitting this, we do not see that it settles the 
question. The play may have had a double title originally — Love's La- 
bour 'j Woji, or All 's Well, etc. — like Twelfth N'ight, and some other of 
the plays (cf Hen. VIII. p. 10) ; or the present title may be a later one 
suggested by the occurrence of the proverb in the play. 

Of the German critics, Gervinus and H. von Friesen are of opinion 
that the play is an early one recast. Tieck had long before noted evi- 
dences of two distinct styles of composition in it. On the other hand, 
Delius and Hertzberg deny that any such diversity of styles is to be rec- 
ognized in any portion of it. 



INTROD UCTION. 1 1 

together with those written on the margin or interlined, for 
the purpose of being substituted for them. We have not the 
means afforded in several other plays where similar mis- 
prints have been found of correcting them by the collation 
of the old editions, as there is no other than that in the folio, 
which is less carefully printed than usual, not being even 
divided into scenes. From all these concurring causes there 
are many passages of obscure or doubtful meaning, some of 
which would perhaps remain so, even if we had them as the 
author left them ; while others are probably darkened by 
typographical errors. Some of these difficulties have been 
perfectly cleared up, by the ingenuity or antiquarian indus- 
try of the later commentators; as to others, we must be con- 
tent with explanations and conjectural corrections, which are 
only probable until something more satisfactory can be pre- 
sented." 

ir. THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT. 

The story of Helena and Bertram was taken by Shake- 
speare from Paynter's Palace of Pleasure, 1566, Paynter hav- 
ing translated it from Boccaccio's Decameron, which was "the 
great storehouse of romantic and humorous narrative for the 
poets and dramatists of that and the succeeding age." * The 
characters of the Countess, Lafeu, Parolles, and the Clown 
are the poet's own. 

III. CRITICAL COMMENTS ON THE PLAY. 

[Frojn Fiazlitfs " Characters of S/iakespeaj-^s Flays "^ 

All 's Well that Ends Well is one of the most pleasing of 

our author's comedies. The interest is, however, more of a 

serious than of a comic nature. The character of Helena is 

* For Shakespeare's variations from the original story, see the extract 
from Mrs. Jameson below. 

t Characters of Shakespear'' s Flays, by William Hazlitt, edited by W, 
Carew Hazlitt (London, 1869), p. 202 fol. 



12 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

one of great sweetness and delicacy. She is placed in cir 
cumstances of the most critical kind, and has to court her 
husband both as a virgin and a wife ; yet the most scrupu- 
lous nicety of female modesty is not once violated. There 
is not one thought or action that ought to bring a blush into 
her cheeks, or that for a moment lessens her in our esteem. 
Perhaps the romantic attachment of a beautiful and virtuous 
girl to one placed above her hopes by the circumstances of 
birth and fortune was never so exquisitely expressed as in 
the reflections which she utters (i. i. 73-92) when young 
Rousillon leaves his mother's house, under whose protection 
she has been brought up with him, to repair to the French 
king's court. 

The interest excited by this beautiful picture of a fond and 
innocent heart is kept up afterwards by her resolution to fol- 
low him to France, the success of her experiment in restoring 
the King's health, her demanding Bertram in marriage as a 
recompense, his leaving her in disdain, her interview with 
him afterwards disguised as Diana, a young lady whom he 
importunes with his secret addresses, and their final recon- 
ciliation when the consequences of her stratagem and the 
proofs of her love are fully made known. The persevering 
gratitude of the French king to his benefactress, who cures 
him of a languishing distemper by a prescription hereditary 
in her family, the indulgent kindness of the Countess, whose 
pride of birth yields, almost without a struggle, to her affec- 
tion for Helena, the honesty and uprightness of the good old 
lord Lafeu, make very interesting parts of the picture. The 
wilful stubbornness and youthful petulance of Bertram are 
also very admirably described. The comic part of the play 
turns on the folly, boasting, and cowardice of Parolles, a 
parasite and hanger-on of Bertram's, the detection of whose 
false pretensions to bravery and honour forms a very amus- 
ing episode. He is first found out by the old lord Lafeu, 
who says, " The soul of this man is his clothes ;" and it is 



INTRODUCTION. 



n 



proved afterwards that his heart is in his tongue, and that 
both are false and hollow. The adventure of " the bringing 
off of his drum" has become proverbial as a satire on all 
ridiculous and blustering undertakings which the person 
never means to perform ; nor can any thing be more severe 
than what one of the bystanders remarks upon what Parolles 
says of himself — " Is it possible he should know what he is, 
and be that he is?" Yet Parolles himself gives the best so- 
lution of the difficulty afterwards when he is thankful to es- 
cape with his life and the loss of character (iv. 3. 302 fol.); 
for so that he can live on, he is by no means squeamish 
about the loss of pretensions, to which he had sense enough 
to know he had no real claim, and which he had assumed 
only as a means to live. 

[From SchlegeVs '■'■Dramatic Literatures*^ 
All V Well that Ends Well is the old story of a young 
maiden whose love looked much higher than her station. 
She obtains her lover in marriage from the hand of the King 
as a reward for curing him of a hopeless and lingering dis- 
ease, by means of a hereditary arcanum of her father, who 
had been in his lifetime a celebrated physician. The young 
man despises her virtue and beauty, concludes the marriage 
only in appearance, and seeks in the dangers of war deliver- 
ance from a domestic happiness which wounds his pride. By 
faithful endurance and an innocent fraud, she fulfils the ap- 
parently impossible conditions on which the Count had prom- 
ised to acknowledge her as his wife. Love appears here in 
humble guise : the wooing is on the woman's side ; it is 
striving, unaided by a reciprocal inclination, to overcome the 
prejudices of birth. But as soon as Helena is united to the 
Count by a sacred bond, though by him considered an op- 
pressive chain, her error becomes her virtue; she affects us 

* Lectures on Dramatic Art ami Literature, by A. W. Schlegel ; Black's 
translation, revised by Morrison (London, 1846), p. 384 fol. 



14 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

by her patient suffering. The moment in which she appears 
to most advantage is when she accuses herself as the perse- 
cutor of her inflexible husband, and, under the pretext of a 
pilgrimage to atone for her error, privately leaves the house 
of her mother-in-law, Johnson expresses a cordial aversion 
for Count Bertram, and regrets that he should be allowed to 
come off at last with no other punishment than a temporary 
shame, nay, even be rewarded with the unmerited possession 
of a virtuous wife. But has Shakspeare ever attempted to 
soften the impression made by his unfeeling pride and light- 
hearted perversity ? He has but given him the good quali- 
ties of a soldier. And does not the poet paint the true way 
of the world, which never makes much of man's injustice to 
woman, if so-called family honour is preserved.^ Bertram's 
sole justification is, that by the exercise of arbitrary power 
the King thought proper to constrain him in a matter of such 
delicacy and private right as the choice of a wife. Besides, 
this story, as well as that of Grissel and many similar ones, 
is intended to prove that woman's truth and patience will 
at last triumph over man's abuse of his superior power, while 
other novels 3.x\d fabliaux are, on the other hand, true satires 
on woman's inconsistency and cunning. In this piece old 
age is painted with rare favour : the plain honesty of the 
King, the good-natured impetuosity of old Lafeu, the mater- 
nal indulgence of the Countess to Helena's passion for her 
son, seem all as it were to vie with each other in endeavours 
to overcome the arrogance of the young Count. The style 
of the whole is more sententious than imaginative; the glow- 
ing colours of fancy could not with propriety have been em- 
ployed on such a subject. In the passages where the humil- 
iating rejection of the poor Helena is most painfully affect- 
ing, the cowardly Parolles steps in to the relief of the spec- 
tator. The mystification by which his pretended valour and 
his shameless slanders are unmasked must be ranked among 
the most comic scenes that ever were invented; they contain 



IN TROD UCTION. 1 5 

matter enough for an excellent comedy, if Shakspeare were 
not always rich even to profusion. Falstaff has thrown Pa- 
rolles into the shade, otherwise among the poet's comic char- 
acters he would have been still more famous. 

[From Mrs. Jameson'' s " Characteristics of Women.'''' *] 
Helena, as a woman, is more passionate than imaginative ; 
and, as a character, she bears the same relation to Juliet 
that Isabel bears to Portia. There is equal unity of purpose 
and effect, with much less of the glow of imagery and the ex- 
ternal colouring of poetry in the sentiments, language, and 
details. It is passion developed under its most profound and 
serious aspect; as in Isabella, we have the serious and the 
thoughtful, not the brilliant side of intellect. Both Helena 
and Isabel are distinguished by high mental powers, tinged 
with a melancholy sweetness; but in Isabella the serious and 
energetic part of the character is founded in religious princi- 
ple, in Helena it is founded in deep passion. 

There never was, perhaps, a more beautiful picture of a 
woman's love, cherished in secret, not self-consuming in si- 
lent languishment — not pining in thought — not passive and 
*' desponding over its idol" — but patient and hopeful, strong 
in its own intensity, and sustained by its own fond faith. The 
passion here reposes upon itself for all its interest ; it de- 
rives nothing from art or ornament or circumstance ; it has 
nothing of the picturesque charm or glowing romance of 
Juliet; nothing of the poetical splendour of Portia, or the 
vestal grandeur of Isabel. The situation of Helena is the 
most painful and degrading in which a woman can be placed. 
She is poor and lowly ; she loves a man who is far her supe- 
rior in rank, who repays her love with indifference, and re- 
jects her hand with scorn. She marries him against his will ; 
he leaves her with contumely on the day of their marriage, 
and makes his return to her arms depend on conditions ap- 
* American ed. (Boston, 1857), p. 154 fol. 



i6 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

parently impossible. All the circumstances and details with 
which Helena is surrounded are shocking to our feelings 
and wounding to our delicacy, and yet the beauty of the 
character is made to triumph over all ; and Shakspeare, 
resting for all his effect on its internal resources and its 
genuine truth and sweetness, has not even availed himself of 
some extraneous advantages with which Helen is represented 
in the original story. She is the Giletta di Narbonna of Boc- 
caccio. In the Italian tale, Giletta is the daughter of a cele- 
brated physician attached to the court of Roussillon ; she is 
represented as a rich heiress, who rejects many suitors of 
worth and rank, in consequence of her secret attachment to 
the young Bertram de Roussillon. She cures the King of 
France of a grievous distemper, by one of her father's pre- 
scriptions ; and she asks and receives as her reward the 
young Count of Roussillon as her wedded husband. He for- 
sakes her on their wedding-day, and she retires, by his order, 
to his territory of Roussillon. There she is received with 
honour, takes state upon her, in her husband's absence, as the 
" lady of the land," administers justice, and rules her lord's 
dominions so wisely and so well that she is universally loved 
and reverenced by his subjects. In the mean time, the 
Count, instead of rejoining her, flies to Tuscany, and the rest 
of the story is closely followed in the drama. The beauty, 
wisdom, and royal demeanour of Giletta are charmingly de- 
scribed, as well as her fervent love for Bertram. But Hel- 
ena, in the play, derives no dignity or interest from place or 
circumstance, and rests for all our sympathy and respect 
solely upon the truth and intensity of her affections. 
She is, indeed, represented to us as one 

" Whose beauty did astonish the survey 
Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive, 
Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve 
Humbly called mistress."' 

As her dignity is derived from mental power, without any 



INTRODUCTION. 



17 



alloy of pride, so her humility has a peculiar grace. If she 
feels and repines over her lowly birth, it is merely as an ob- 
stacle which separates her from the man she loves. She is 
more sensible to his greatness than her own littleness; she 
is continually looking from herself up to him, not from him 
down to herself. She has been bred up under the same roof 
with him ; she has adored him from infancy. Her love is 
not " th' infection taken in at the eyes," nor kindled by youth- 
ful romance; it appears to have taken root in her being, to 
have grown wuth her years, and to have gradually absorbed 
all her thoughts and faculties, until her fancy "carries no fa- 
vour in it but Bertram's," and "there is no living, none, it 
Bertram be away." 

It may be said that Bertram, arrogant, wayward, and heart- 
less, does not justify this ardent and deep devotion. But 
Helena does not behold him with our eyes, but as he is 
"sanctified in her idolatrous fancy." Dr. Johnson says he 
cannot reconcile himself to a man who marries Helena like 
a coward, and leaves her like a profligate. This is much too 
severe ; in the first place, there is no necessity that we should 
reconcile ourselves to him. In this consists a part of the 
wonderful beauty of the character of Helena — a part of its 
womanly truth, which Johnson, who accuses Bertram, and 
those who so plausibly defend him, did not understand. If 
it never happened in real life that a woman, richly endued 
with heaven's best gifts, loved with all her heart, and soul, 
and strength, a man unequal to or unworthy of her, and to 
whose faults herself alone was blind — I would give up the 
point; but if it be in nature, why should it not be in Shak- 
speare ? We are not to look into Bertram's character for 
the spring and source of Helena's love for him, but into 
her own. She loves Bertram — because she loves him ! — a 
woman's reason, but here, and sometimes elsewhere, all-suf- 
ficient. 

And although Helena tells herself that she loves in vain, a 

B 



1 8 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

conviction stronger than reason tells her that she does not : 
her love is like a religion, pure, holy, and deep; the blessed- 
ness to which she has lifted her thoughts is forever before 
her ; to despair would be a crime — it would be to cast her- 
self away and die. The faith of her affection, combining 
with the natural energy of her character, believing all things 
possible, makes them so. It could say to the mountain of 
pride which stands between her and her hopes, " Be thou re- 
moved !" and it is removed. This is the solution of her be- 
haviour in the marriage scene, where Bertram, with obvious 
reluctance and disdain, accepts her hand, which the King, his 
feudal lord and guardian, forces on him. Her maidenly feel- 
ing is at first shocked, and she shrinks back — 

" That you are well restor'd, my lord, I am glad ; 
Let the rest go." 

But shall she weakly relinquish the golden opportunity, and 
dash the cup from her lips at the moment it is presented ? 
Shall she cast away the treasure for which she has ventured 
both life and honour, when it is just within her grasp? Shall 
she, after compromising her feminine delicacy by the public 
disclosure of her preference, be thrust back into shame, " to 
blush out the remainder of her life," and die a poor, lost, 
scorned thing? This would be very pretty and interesting 
and characteristic in Viola or Ophelia, but not at all consist- 
ent with that high determined spirit, that moral energy, with 
which Helena is portrayed. Pride is the only obstacle op- 
posed to her. She is not despised and rejected as a woman, 
but as a poor physician's daughter; and this, to an under- 
standing so clear, so strong, so just as Helena's, is not felt as 
an unpardonable insult. The mere pride of rank and birth 
is a prejudice of which she cannot comprehend the force, be* 
cause her mind towers so immeasurably above it ; and, com- 
pared to the infinite love which swells within her own bosom, 
it sinks into nothing. She cannot conceive that he to whom 
she has devoted her heart and truth, her soul, her life, her 



INTRO D UCTJON. 



19 



service, must not one day love her in return ; and, once her 
own beyond the reach of fate, that her cares, her caresses, 
her unvv'earied patient tenderness, will not at last " win her 
lord to look upon her" — 

. . . "For time will bring on summer, 

When briars shall have leaves as well as thorns, 

And be as sweet as sharp." 

It is this fond faith which, hoping all things, enables her 
to enduie all things; which hallows and dignifies the surren- 
der of her woman's pride, making it a sacrifice on which vir- 
tue and love throw a mingled incense. 

The scene in which the Countess extorts from Helen the 
confession of her love [i. 3] is perhaps the finest in the whole 
play, and brings out all the striking points of Helen's char- 
acter, to which I have already alluded. We must not fail to 
remark that though the acknowledgment is wrung from her 
with an agony which seems to convulse her whole being, yet 
when once she has given it solemn utterance, she recovers 
her presence of mind, and asserts her native dignity. In her 
justification of her feelings and her conduct, there is neither 
sophistry nor self-deception nor presumption, but a noble 
simplicity, combined with the most impassioned earnestness; 
while the language naturally rises in its eloquent beauty, as 
the tide of feeling, now first let loose from the bursting heart, 
comes pouring forth in words. The whole scene is wonder- 
fully beautiful. 

This Old Countess of Roussillon is a charming sketch. 
She is like one of Titian's old women, who still, amid their 
wrinkles, remind us of that soul of beauty and sensibility 
which must have animated them when young. She is a fine 
contrast to Lady Capulet — benign, cheerful, and affectionate; 
she has a benevolent enthusiasm, which neither age nor sor- 
row nor pride can wear away. Thus, when she is brought 
to believe that Helen nourishes a secret attachment for her 
son, she observes — 



20 ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 

" Even so it was with me when I was young ! 

This thorn 
Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong ; 
It is the show and seal of nature's truth, 
When love's strong passion is impress'd in youth." 

Her fond, maternal love for Helena, whom she has brought 
yp, her pride in her good qualities, overpowering all her own 
prejudices of rank and birth, are most natural in such a mind , 
and her indignation against her son, hoWever strongly ex- 
pressed, never forgets the mother. 

" What angel shall 
Bless this unworthy husband ? he cannot thrive 
Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear 
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath 
Of greatest justice. 
1$ . . . Which of them both 

Is dearest to me — I have no skill in sense 
To make distinction." 

This is very skilfully, as well as delicately, conceived. In 
rejecting those poetical and accidental advantages which Gi- 
letta possesses in the original story, Shakspeare has substi- 
tuted the beautiful character of the Countess; and he has 
contrived that, as the character of Helena should rest for its 
internal oh-a^xm on the depth of her own affections, so it should 
depend for its external interest on the affection she inspires. 
The enthusiastic tenderness of the old Countess, the admira- 
tion and respect of the King, Lafeu, and all who are brought 
in connection with her, make amends for the humiliating neg- 
lect of Bertram, and cast round Helen that collateral light 
which Giletta in the story owes to other circumstances, strik- 
ing indeed, and well imagined, but not (I think) so finely 
harmonizing with the character. 

It is also very natural that Helen, with the intuitive dis- 
cernment of a pure and upright mind, and the penetration of 
a quick-witted woman, should be the first to detect the false- 
hood and cowardice of the boaster ParoUes, who imposes on 
every one else. 



INTR OD UC TION. 2 \ 

It has been remarked that there is less of poetical imagery 
in this play than in many of the others. A certain solidity 
in Helen's character takes place of the ideal power; and, 
with consistent truth of keeping, the same predominance of 
feeling over fancy, of the reflective over the imaginative 
faculty, is maintained through the whole dialogue. Yet the 
finest passages in the serious scenes are those appropriated 
to her; they are familiar ard celebrated as quotations, but, 
fully to understand their beauty and truth, they should be 
considered relatively to her character and situation : thus, 
when, in speaking of Bertram, she says " that he is one to 
whom she wishes well," the consciousness of the dispropor- 
tion between her words and her feelings draws from her this 
beautiful and affecting observation, so just in itself, and so 
true to her situation, and to the sentiment which fills her 
whole heart : 

" 'T is pity 
That wishing well had not a body in 't, 
Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born, 
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, 
Might with effects of them follow our friends, 
And show what we alone must think, which never 
Returns us thanks." 

Though I cannot go the length of those who have defend- 
ed Bertram on almost every point, still I think the censure 
which Johnson has passed on the character is much too se- 
vere. Bertram is certainly not a pattern hero of romance, 
but full of faults such as we meet with every day in men of 
his age and class. He is a bold, ardent, self-willed youth, 
just dismissed into the world from domestic indulgence, with 
an excess of aristocratic and military pride, but not without 
some sense of true honour and generosity. I have lately read 
a defence of Bertram's character, written with much elegance 
and plausibility. " The young Count," says this critic, " comes 
before us possessed of a good heart, and of no mean capacity, 



2 2 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

but with a haughtiness which threatens to dull the kinder 
passions, and to cloud the intellect. This is the inevitable 
consequence of an illustrious education. The glare of his 
birthright has dazzled his young faculties. Perhaps the 
first words he could distinguish were from the important 
nurse, giving elaborate directions about his lordship's pap. 
As soon as he could walk, a crowd of submissive vassals 
doffed their caps, and hailed his first appearance on his legs. 
His spelling-book had the arms of the family emblazoned on 
the cover. He had been accustomed to hear himself called 
the great, the mighty son of Roussillon, ever since he was a 
helpless child. A succession of complacent tutors would by 
no means destroy the illusion ; and it is from their hands that 
Shakspeare receives him, while yet in his minority. An over- 
weening pride of birth is Bertram's great foible. To cure 
him of this, Shakspeare sends him to the wars, that he may 
win fame for himself, and thus exchange a shadow for a re- 
ality. There the great dignity that his valour acquired for 
him places him on an equality with any one of his ancestors, 
and he is no longer behoiden to them alone for the world's 
observance. Thus in his own person he discovers there is 
something better than mere hereditary honours; and his 
heart is prepared to acknowledge that the entire devotion 
of a Helen's love is of more worth than the court-bred smiles 
of a princess."* 

It is not extraordinary that, in the first instance, his spirit 
should revolt at the idea of marrying his mother's "waiting 
gentlewoman," or that he should refuse her; yet when the 
king, his feudal lord, whose despotic authority was in this 
case legal and indisputable, threatens him with the extremity 
of his wrath and vengeance, that he should submit himself 
to a hard necessity was too consistent with the manners of 
the time to be called cowardice. Such forced marriages were 
not uncommon even in our own country, when the right of 
♦ New Monthly Alagazijie, vol. iv. 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

wardship, now vested in the Lord Chancellor, was exercised 
with uncontrolled and often cruel despotism by the sover- 
eign. . . . 

Bertram's disgust at the tyranny which has made his free- 
dom the payment of another's debt, which has united him to 
a woman whose merits are not towards him — whose secret 
love and long-enduring faith are yet unknown and untried — 
might well make his bride distasteful to him. He flies her 
on the very day of their marriage, most like a wilful, haughty, 
angry boy, but not like a profligate. On other points he is 
not so easily defended; and Shakspeare, we see, has not de- 
fended, but corrected him. The latter part of the play is 
more perplexing than pleasing. We do not, indeed, repine, 
with Dr. Johnson, that Bertram, after all his misdemeanours, 
is "dismissed to happiness;" but, notwithstanding the clever 
defence that has been made for him, he has our pardon rather 
than our sympathy : and for mine own part, I could find it 
easier to love Bertram as Helena does, than to excuse him ; 
her love for him is his best excuse. 

[From Dowdeii's '■'• Shakspere.'''''^'\ 
In All 's Well that E?ids Well, a subject of extreme diffi- 
culty, when regarded on the ethical side, was treated by 
Shakspere with a full consciousness of its difficulty. A 
woman who seeks her husband, and gains him against his 
will; who afterwards by a fraud — a fraud however pious — 
defeats his intention of estranging her, and becomes the 
mother of his child; such a personage it would seem a suf- 
ficiently difficult task to render attractive or admirable. 
Yet Helena has been named by Coleridge "the loveliest of 
Shakspere's characters." Possibly Coleridge recognized in 
Helena the single quality which, if brought to bear upon 
himself by one to whom he yielded love and worship, would 

* Shakspere : a Critical Study of his Alind aud Art, by Edward Dowdcn 
(2d ed. London, 1876), p. 85 fol, 



24 



ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 



have given definiteness and energy to his somewhat vague 
and incoherent life. For sake of this one thing Sliakspere 
was interested in the story, and so admirable did it seem to 
him that he could not choose but endeavour to make beau- 
tiful and noble the entire character and action of Helena. 
This one thing is the energy, the leap-up, the direct advance 
of the will of Helena, her prompt, unerroneous tendency tow- 
ards the right and efficient deed. She does not display her- 
self through her words; she does not, except on rarest oc- 
casions, allow her feelings to expand and deploy themselves ; 
her entire force of character is concentrated in what she 
does. And therefore w^e see her quite as much indirectly, 
through the effect which she has produced upon other per- 
sons of the drama, as through self-confession or immediate 
presentation of her character. 

A motto for the play may be found in the w^ords uttered 
with pious astonishment by the clown, when his mistress bids 
him to begone, "That man should be at woman's command, 
and yet no hurt done." Helena is the providence of the 
play; and there is "no hurt done," but rather healing — heal- 
ing of the body of the French king, healing of the spirit of 
the man she loves. For Bertram, when the story begins^ 
though endowed with beauty and bravery and the advantages 
(and disadvantages) of rank, is in character, in heart, in will, 
a crude, ungracious boy. Helena loves him, and sets him, 
in her love, above herself, the poor physician's daughter, out 

of her sphere : 

" 'T were all one 
That I should love a bright, particular star 
And think to wed it, he is so above me." 

She loves him thus, but (if love can be conceived as dis- 
tinct from liking) she does not wholly like him. She admits 
to herself that in worship of Bertram there is a certain fatu- 
ousness — 

" Now he 's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 
Must sanctify his reliques." 



INTRODUCTION. 



25 



She sees from the first that the friend of his choice, the 
French captain, is " a notorious Har," " solely a coward," " a 
great way fool ;" she trembles for what Bertram may learn at 

the court. 

" God send him well ! 
The court 's a learning place ; and he is one — 
Parolles. What one i' faith ? 
Heletta, That I wish well." 

Yet she sees in Bertram a potential nobleness waiting to be 
evoked. And her will leaps forward to help him. Now she 
loves him — loves him with devotion which comes from a 
consciousness that she can confer much; and she will form 
him so that one day she shall like him also. 

'■'■Helena. 'T is pity. 

Parolles. What 's pity ? 

Helena. That wishing well had not a body in 't, 
Which might be felt ; that we, the poorer born, 
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, 
Might with effects of them follow our friends, 
And show what we alone must think." 

But the "wishing well" of such a woman as Helena has in- 
deed a sensible and apprehensible body in it. With a sacred 
boldness she assumes a command over Bertram's fate and 
lier own. She cannot believe in the piety of resignation or 
passiveness, in the religious duty of letting things drift; 
rather, she finds in the love which prompts her a true man- 
date from above, and a veritable providential power: 

" Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie 
Which we ascribe to heaven ; the fated sky 
Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull 
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. 
What power is it that mounts my love so high ?" 

Helena goes forth, encouraged by her mistress, the mother 
of the man she seeks to win ; goes forth to gain her husband, 
to allay her own need of service to him, to impose herself on 
Bertram as the blessing that he requires. All this Helena 



26 ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 

does openly, with perfect courage. She does not conceal her 
love from the Countess; she does not for a moment dream 
of stealing after Bertram in man's attire. It is the most 
impulsively or the most delicately and exquisitely feminine 
of Shakspere's women whom he delights to disguise in the 
"garnish of a boy" — ^Julia, with her hair knit up "in twenty 
odd-conceited true-love knots;" Rosalind, the gallant curtle- 
axe upon her thigh ; Viola, the sweet-voiced, in whom " all is 
semblative a woman's part;" Jessica, for whose transforma- 
tion Cupid himself would blush ; Portia, the wise young judge, 
so poignantly feminine in her gifts of intellect and heart; 
Imogen, who steps into the cavern's mouth with the ad- 
vanced sword in a slender and trembling hand. In Helena 
there is so much solidity and strength of character that we 
feel she would be enfeebled by any male disguise which 
might complicate the impression produced by her plain 
womanhood. There could be no charm in presenting as a 
pretender to male courage one who was actually courageous 
as a man. 

But throughout, while Helena is abundantly courageous, 
Shakspere intends that she shall at no moment appear un- 
womanly. In offering herself to Bertram, she first discloses 
her real feeling by words addressed to one of the young 
lords, from among whom it is granted her to choose a hus- 
band : 

*' Be not afraid that I your hand should take ; 
I '11 never do you wrong for your own sake." 

Only with Bertram she would venture on the bold experi- 
ment of wronging him for his own sake. The experiment, 
indeed, does not at first seem to succeed. Helena is wedded 
to Bertram; she has laid her will without reserve in her hus- 
band's hands; she had desired to surrender all to him, for 
his good, and she has surrendered all. But Bertram does 
not find this providential superintendence of his affairs of the 
heart altogether to his taste ; and in company with Parolles 



INTRODUCTION. 



27 



he flies from his wife's presence to the Italian war. Upon 
reading the concise and cruel letter in which Bertram has 
declared the finality of his separation from her, Helena does 
not faint, nor does she break forth into bitter lamentation. 
"This is a dreadful sentence," " 'T is bitter." Thus, prun- 
ing her words, Helena controls " the thoughts which swell 
and throng" over her, until they condense themselves into 
one strong purpose. She will leave her mother, leave her 
home; and when she is gone and forgotten, Bertram will 
return from hardship and danger. But she would fain see 
him ; and if any thing can still be done, she will do that thing. 

The mode by which Helena succeeds in accomplishing 
the conditions upon which Bertram has promised to ac- 
knowledge her as his wife seems indeed hardly to possess 
any moral force, any validity for the heart or the conscience. 
It can only be said, in explanation, that to Helena an in- 
finite virtue and significance resides in a deed. Out of a 
word or out of a feeling she does not hope for measureless 
good to come; but out of a deed, what may not come? 
That Bertram should actually have received her as his wife, 
actually, though unwittingly; that he should indeed be fa- 
ther of the child she bears him — these are facts, accomplish- 
ed things, which must work out some real advantage. And 
now Bertram has learned his need of self distrust, perhaps 
has learned true modesty. His friend (who was all vain 
words apart from deeds) has been unmasked and pitilessly 
exposed. May not Bertram now be capable of estimating 
the worth of things and of persons more justly ? Helena, in 
taking the place of Diana, in beguiling her husband into at 
least material virtue, is still "doing him wrong, for his own 
sake." The man is "at woman's command," and there is 
" no hurt done." 

Even at the last, Bertram's attainment is but small ; he is 
still no more than a potential piece of worthy manhood. 
We cannot suppose that Shakspere has represented hi n thus 



28 ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 

without a purpose. Does not the poet wish us to feel that 
although much remains to be wrought in Bertram, his wel- 
fare is now assured ? The courageous title of the play, All 's 
Well thai E?ids Well, is like an utterance of the heart of 
Helena, who has strength and endurance to attain the end, 
and who will measure things, not by the pains and trials of 
the way, not by the dubious and difficult means, but by that 
end, by the accomplished issue. We need not, therefore, 
concern ourselves any longer about Bertram; he is safe in 
the hands of Helena; she will fashion him as he should be 
fashioned. Bertram is at length delivered from the snares 
and delusions which beset his years of haughty ignorance and 
dulness of the heart; he is doubly won by Helena; therefore 
he cannot wander far, therefore he cannot finally be lost. 

\From Mr. F. J. Furnivall 'j Lntroduction to the Play.^^ 
We have now left behind us Shakspere's bright, sweet 
time, and are at the entrance to his gloomy one.f Instead 
of coming with outstretched hand and welcoming smile of lip 
and eye to greet such plays as Much Ado, As You Like It, 
even Twelfth Night, we turn with half-repugnance from All V 
Well, and wish Shakspere had given the subject the go-by. 
Yet for its main feature — a woman forcing her love on an 
unwilling man — Shakspere has prepared us in his two last 
,plays (as well as an earlier one), by Phoebe in As You Like 
It, by Olivia in Twelfth Night, endeavouring to force their 
loves on two supposed men, Rosalindl and Viola. But none 
the less is the reality distasteful to us, when the supposed 
man becomes a man indeed. Why then did Shakspere 
choose this story of Giglietta di Nerbona pursuing Beltramo, 
which he found in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, a.d. 1566, 
taken from Boccaccio's Decamerone ? For the same reason, 

* l^he Leopold Shakspere (London, 1877), p. Ix. fol. 
t See Mr. Furnivall's classification of the plays, in oured. of /4. F.Z. p. 25. 
$ We must recollect too that Rosalind made the first advances to Or- 
lando. 



JNTROD UCTION. 



29 



I conceive, that Chaucer took from the -same Italian source 
— tho' through Petrarch's Latin version of it — the Clerk's 
story of Griselda, to show what woman's love, what wifely 
duty, would do and suffer for the man on whom they hung. 
The tale of woman's suffering, of woman's sacrifice for love, 
was no new tale to Shakspere. His Adriana of the Errors^ 
Hermia and Helena of Midsummer - Nighf s Dream, Sylvia 
and Julia of The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Juliet of Ro77ico 
and jfuliet, Hotspur's widow of 2 Henry IV., Hero of Muck 
Ado, Rosalind of As You Like It, Viola of Twelftk Nigkt, had 
brought home to him, as they have to us, the depth and 
height of women's love : 

" Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress, 
But always resolute in most extremes," 

willing to face rebuke, repulse, the unsexing of themselves, 
base service, exile, nay, the grave, so that thereby the loved 
one might be won or served. And when Shakspere saw 
Giglietta's story, he recognized in it the same true woman's 
love undergoing a more repulsive trial, that of unwomanli- 
ness, than he had yet put any of his heroines to; and he re- 
solved that his countrymen should know through what ap- 
parent dirt pure love would pass, and could, unspotted and 
unsmirched. Apparent dirt, I say, because I can't see that 
what would be right, or justifiable, in a man when in love to 
secure his sweetheart or wife, can be wrong or unjustifiable 
in a woman. Equality in choice and proposal should be al- 
lowed, as Thackeray says. Another lesson Shakspere had, 
too, to teach to pride of birth in England ; a lesson that, be- 
fore him, his father Chaucer had taught in many a line, re- 
peated none so oft (see his Gentleness, Wife's Tale, etc.), and 
a lesson not yet learned here; one that never will be learned, 

I fear: 

"Trust me, Clara Vera de Vere, 

From yon blue heavens above us bent, 
The grand old gardener and his wife 
Smile at the claims of long descent ; 



30 ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 

Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 

'T is only noble to be good ; 
Kind hearts are more than coronets, 

And simple faith than Norman blood." 

All V Well is, I doubt not, Love's Labours Won recast. 
Both* have the name Dumaine in common, in both is the 
Labour of Love; that which is the growth of a Hfe is won 
here, that which is the growth of a day being lost in the ear- 
Her play. Moreover, no intelligent person can read the play 
without being struck by the contrast of early and late work 
in it. The stiff formality of the rhymed talk between Hel- 
ena and the king is due, not to etiquette, but to Shakspere's 
early time; so also the end of the play. 

For the backward and forward reach of the play, as in the 
other Second-Period comedies, let us note that Helena in 
Midsummer- Night' s Dream, with her desire to force herself 
on Demetrius, is the prototype of Helena oi All V Well. We 
have the parallel expression in All 's Well, " the hind that 
would be mated by the lion must die for love;" in Midsum- 
mer-Nighf s Dream, " the mild hind makes speed to catch 
the tiger." But note the wondrous difference in depth and 
beauty of character of the two Helenas, also the absence 
here of the youthful Midsiwimer-Nighf s Dream face-scratch- 
ings, long legs, and funny conceit of the moon tumbling 
through the earth. . . . Rojneo and Juliet, in Lady Capulet's 
speech about Tybalt, iii. 5. 71, gives us the parallel of La- 
feu's "moderate lamentation" and " excessive grief," i. i. 48, 
and Diana Capulet's name. T/ie Merchant of Vefiice gives 
us the ring parallel, and the contrast of Portia being chosen, 
and its happy result, with Helena's choosing, and its un- 
happy outcome for a time. Pistol in 2 ILenry IV. and main- 
ly Henry V. is the prototype of Parolles, who is but Pistol re- 
fined and developed, with a touch of Falstaff added, while 
Parolles's echoing of Lafeu (ii. 3) is clearly recollected from 
* That is, All 's Well and Love's Labours Lost. — Ed. 



INTR on UC TION. 3 1 

Sir Andrew Aguecheek's echoing of Sir Toby Belch in Twelfth 
Night. Parolles's proposal to give himself "some hurts, 
and say I got them in exploit" (iv. i) is a remembrance of 
Falstaff's proposal and its carrying out in i HeJiry IV. ^ after 
Prince Hal and Poins have robbed the merry old rascal, etc. 
Also Parolles's exposure by his comrades is suggested by that 
of Falstaff by Prince Hal and Poins. 2 Hemy IV. gives us, 
too, Falstaff's explanation of his abuse of Prince Hal to Doll 
Tearsheet, as the original of Parolles's excuse for his letter 
to Diana Capulet abusing Bertram. 

As to the forward reach of the play, the link with the Sonnets 
is of the strongest. Think of Shakspere, the higher nature, 
but the lower in birth and position, during his separation 
from his Will, so handsome, high-born, hating marriage, mis- 
led by unworthy rivals, also selfish and sensual, and compare 
him with the poor, lowly-born Helena, richer and higher in 
noble qualities, longing for, dwelling in mind on, her hand- 
some Bertram, high-born, hating marriage, misled by Parolles, 
selfish and sensual too. So far Shakspere and Helena are 
one, and Will is Bertram. Hamlet gives us, in Polonius's ad- 
vice to Laertes, the development of the countess's counsel to 
Bertram, "love all, trust a few," etc. In Measure for Meas- 
ure, the All 's Well substitution of the woman who ought to 
be a man's bed-mate for the one who ought not so to be, but 
whom he desired to have, is used again, with the very same 
precautions against discovery, not to stay too long or to 
speak, etc. The name Escalus used here is also that of the 
Governor in Measure for Measure; and for our Corambus 
here we get a Corambis in the first quarto of Harulet. For 
the parallel to the sunshine and the hail in the king at once 
here we go to lear for the sunshine and rain at once in Cor- 
delia, whose smiles and tears were like a better day. For 
our clown's "flowery way that leads to the broad gate and 
the great fire" we turn to the Macbeth porter's "primrose 
way to the everlasting bonfire." For our 



32 



ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 



" Time will bring on summer, 
When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns. 
And be as sweet as sharp," 

we turn to Cymbeliiie with its 

" Leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander 
Outsweeten'd not thy breath." 

To Belarius in the same play we go for Touchstone's and 
the clown's contrast of court and country here, and for Imo- 
gen to match the despised, neglected Helena, willing to give 
up her native land and life for the husband who had so 
wronged her. Helena, though condemned by many women 
and some men, has yet had justice done her by Coleridge, who 
calls her Shakspere's " loveliest character" — and he wrote 
Geftevieve — and Mrs. Jameson, who says, " There never was 
perhaps a more beautiful picture of a woman's love cher- 
ished in secret, not self-consuming in silent languishment, 
not desponding over its idol, but patient and hopeful, strong 
in its own intensity, and sustained by its own fond faith." 
She is the opposite of Hamlet, as she says: 

" Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie 
Which we ascribe to heaven ; the fated sky 
Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull 
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull." 

And she believes that great maxim so often forgotten even 

now — 

" Whoever strove 

To show her merit that did miss her love." 

We can judge her best by the impression that she made on 
others; and if we compare the praises of her by Lafeu, the 
king, the clown, and the countess, who knew her from her 
childhood, and who at least five times sings her praise, we see 
that Bertram's words of her are justified : Helena is " she who 
all men praised." Quick as she is to see through Parolles, 
she cannot see through Bertram. Love blinds her eyes. How 
beautiful is her confession of her love for him to his mother, 



introduction: 33 

and how pretty is old Lafeu's enthusiasm for her ! Let 
those, too, who blame her, notice her drawing back for the 
time on Bertram's declaring he can't love her and won't try 
to (ii. 3. 144). Thenceforward she is passive in the king's 
hands. It is he for his honour's sake who bids Bertram take 
her; and after the young noble's seemingly willing consent, 
she must have been more than woman to refuse to marry the 
man whom she knew her love alone could lift from the mire 
in which he was willingly wallowing- They are wedded; 
and the foolish husband takes counsel of his fool and leaves 
his wife; and then, without the kiss she asks so prettily for, 
he sends her home. What she has thenceforth to do she 
tells us: 

" Like timorous thief most fain would steal 
What law does vouch mine own." 

How little like a triumph, and possession of her love ! 
Her husband's brutal letter does but bring into higher relief 
her noble unselfishness and love for him. Her only desire 
is to save him. She knows the urgence of his " important 
blood," and takes advantage of it to work a lawful meaning 
in a lawful act, and so without disgrace fulfils the condition 
that his baseness has made precedent to his reunion with 
her. For Bertram, the question one is obliged to ask is, 
How came the son of such a father and such a mother to be 
what he was.-* Seeing him even with Helena's eyes, what 
has he to recommend him but his good looks? What other 
good quality of him comes out in the play.? Physical cour- 
age alone. Of moral courage he has none. Headstrong he 
is, a fool, unable to judge men, lustful, a liar, and a sneak. 
One thing he has to pride himself in, his noble birth, and 
that does not save him from being a very snob. He lies 
like ParoUes himself, and even more basely, when he wants 
to get out of a scrape. I cannot doubt that it was one of 
Shakspere's objects in this play to show the utter worthless- 
ness of pride of birth, as he had done in Love's Labours Lost 

C 



24 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

of wit, unless beneath the noble name was a noble soul. 
As Berovvne had to be emptied of the worthless wit he prided 
himself upon, so had Bertram of his silly aristocraticness, his 
all, before he could be filled with the love of the lower-born 
lady of God's own make, which should lift him to his true 
heio-ht. With a word for the countess who, as Mrs. Jameson 
say's, "is like one of Titian's old ladies, reminding us still 
amid their wrinkles of that soul of beauty and sensibility 
which must have animated them when young;" with a kind- 
ly glance at the shrewd, warm-hearted, true, and generous old 
Lafeu, we. take our leave of the last play of Shakspere's de- 
lightful Second Period, whose sunshine has gradually cloud- 
ed to prepare us for the coming storm. 




S -fif 



i..fei= 




ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, 



pepartment 
e/ the interior 



servants to the Countess of 
Rousillon. 




DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

King of France. 

Duke of Florence. 

Bertram, Count of Rousillon. 

Lafeu, an old lord. 

Parolles, a follower of Bertram. 

Steward, 

Clown, 

A Page, 

Countess of Rousillon, mother to Ber- 
tram. 

Helena, a gentlewoman protected by 
the Countess. 

An old Widow of Florence. 

Diana, daughter to the Widow. 

Violenta, ) neighbours and friends to the 

Mariana, ) Widow. 

Lords, Officers, Soldiers, etc., French and 
Florentine. 



^^Hif^- 



rfilMill!l|il'\ ;': ^hs'l „ 




INTERIOR OF PALACE IN ROUSILLON. 



ACT I. 

Scene L RousiUo?i. The Countess's Palace. 
Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Hklena, and 
La FEU, all in black. 
Coimtess. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second 
husband. 

Bertram. And I in going, madam, weep o'er my fatiier's 
death anew ; but I must attend his majesty's command, to 
whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection. 

Lafcu. You shall find of the king a husband, madam ; you, 



38 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

sir, a father. He that so generally is at all times good must 
of necessity hold his virtue to you ; whose worthiness would 
stir it up where it wanted rather than lack it where there is 
such abundance. lo 

Countess. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment.^ 

Lafeu. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam ; under 
whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds 
no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope 
by time. 

Countess. This )oung gentlewoman had a father, — O, that 
' had !' how sad a passage 't is ! — whose skill was almost as 
great as his honesty ; had it stretched so far, would have 
made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack 
of work. Would, for the king's sake, he were living ! I 
think it would be the death of the king's disease. 2. 

Lafeu. How called you the man you speak of, madam .'* 

Countess. He was famous sir, in his profession, and it was 
his great right to be so, — Gerard de Narbon. 

Lafeu. He was excellent indeed, madam ; the king very 
lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly. He was 
skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set 
up against mortality. 

Bertram. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of? 

Lafeu. A fistula, my lord. 30 

Bertram. I heard not of it before. 

Lafeu. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentle- 
woman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon .-* 

Countess. His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my 
overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her edu- 
cation promises. Her dispositions she inherits, which makes 
fair gifts fairer ; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous 
qualities, their commendations go with pity; they are virtues 
and traitors too : in her they are the better for their simple- 
ness ; she derives her honesty and achieves her goodness, 40 

Lafeu. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears. 



ACT I. SCE.VE /. 39 

Cowiiess. 'T is the best brine a maiden can season her 
praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches 
her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood 
from her cheek. — No more of this, Helena ; go to, no more ; 
lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to have. 

Helena. I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too. 

Lafeu. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, ex- 
cessive grief the enemy to the living. 

Countess. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess 
makes it soon mortal. 51 

Bertram. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. 

Lafeu. How understand we that ? 

Countess. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father 
In manners, as in shape ! thy blood and virtue 
Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness 
Share with thy birthright ! Love all, trust a few, 
Do wrong to none ; be able for thine enemy 
Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend 
Under thy own life's key ; be check'd for silence, 60 

But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, 
That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down, 
Fall on thy head ! — Farewell, my lord ; 
'T is an unseason'd courtier ; good my lord. 
Advise him. 

Lafeu. He cannot want the best 

That shall attend his love. 

Countess. Heaven bless him ! — Farewell, Bertram, [Exit. 

Bertram. [To Helena^ The best wishes that can be forged 
in your thoughts be servants to you ! Be comfortable to my 
mother, your mistress, and make much of her. 70 

LMfeu. Farewell, pretty lady; you must hold the credit of 
your father. [Exeunt Bertra7n and Lafeu. 

Helena. O, were that all ! I think not on my father; 
And these great tears grace his remembrance more 
Than those I shed for him. What was he like t 



40 ALL 'S WELL THAT EhWS WELL. 

I have forgot him ; my imagination 

Carries no favour in 't but Bertram's. 

I am undone; there is no living, none, 

If Bertram be away. 'T vi^ere all one 

That I should love a bright particular star Bo 

And think to wed it, he is so above me ; 

In his bright radiance and collateral light 

Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 

The ambition in my love thus plagues itself; 

The hind that would be mated by the lion 

Must die for love. 'T was pretty, though a plague, 

To see him every hour; to sit and draw 

His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, 

In our heart's table, — heart too capable 

Of every line and trick of his sweet favour : 9^ 

But now he 's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 

Must sanctify his reliques. Who comes here ? 

Enter Parolles. 
\Aside\ One that goes with him : I love him for his sake; 
And yet I know him a notorious liar, 
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ; 
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him. 
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones 
Look bleak i' the cold wind : withal, full oft we see 
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. 

Parolles. Save you, fair queen ! 100 

Helena. And you, monarch ! 

Paj'oUes. No, 

Helena. And no. 

Parolles. Are you meditating on virginity? will you any 
thing with it? 

Helena'. Not my virginity yet. 
There shall your master have a thousand loves : 
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend, 



41 



ACT r. SCENE I. 

A phoenix, captain, and an enemy, 

A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, "o 

A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear ; 

His humble ambition, proud humility. 

His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, 

His fiiith, his sweet disaster; with a world 

Of pretty, fond, adoptions Christendoms, 

That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he — 

I know not what he shall. God send him well ! 

The court 's a learning place, and he is one — 

ParoUes. What one, i' faith ? 

Helena. That I wish well. 'T is pity — lao 

ParoUes. What 's pity ? 

Helena. That wishing well had not a body in 't. 
Which might be felt ; that we, the poorer born, 
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, 
Might with effects of them follow our friends, 
And show what we alone must think, which never 
Returns us thanks. 

P?tter Page. 

Page. Monsieur ParoUes, my lord calls for you. [Exit. 

ParoUes. Little Helen, farewell ; if I can remember thee, 
I will think of thee at court. 130 

Helena. Monsieur ParoUes, you were born under a char- 
itable star. 

ParoUes. Under Mars, I. 

Helena. I especially think, under Mars. 

ParoUes. Why under Mars ? 

Helena. The wars have so kept you under that you must 
needs be born under Mars. 

ParoUes. When he was predominant. 

Helena. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. 

ParoUes. Why think you so ? mo 

Helena. You go so much backward when you fight. 

ParoUes. That 's for advantage. 



42 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

Helena. So is running away, when fear proposes the safe- 
ty ; but the composition that your valour and fear makes in 
you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well. 145 

Parolles. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee 
acutely. I will return perfect courtier ; in the which, my in- 
struction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be ca- 
pable of a courtier's counsel and understand what advice 
shall thrust upon thee ; else thou diest in thine unthankful- 
ness, and thine ignorance makes thee away. Farewell. 
When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers ; when thou hast 
none, remember thy friends: get thee a good husband, and 
use him as he uses thee. So, farewell. \^Exit. 

Helena. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 
Which we ascribe to heaven ; the fated sky 
Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull 
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. 
What power is it which mounts my love so high, 
That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? 160 

The mightiest space in fortune nature brings 
To join like likes and kiss like native things. 
Impossible be strange attempts to those 
That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose 
What hath been cannot be ; who ever strove 
To show her merit, that did miss her love ? 
The king's disease — my project may deceive me, 
But my intents are fix'd and will not leave me. \Exit. 

Scene II. Paris. The Kin^s Palace. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France, with letters, 
a7id divers Attendants. 

King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears; 
Have fought with equal fortune and continue 
A. braving war. 

1 Lord. So 't is reported, sir. 



ACT I. SCENE ir. 

King. Nay, *t is most credible ; we here receive it 
A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, 
With caution that the Florentine will move us 
For speedy aid : wherein our dearest friend 
Prejudicates the business, and would seem 
To have us make denial. 

1 Lord. His love and wisdom, 
Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead 

For amplest credence. 

King. He hath arm'd our answer, 

And Florence is denied before he comes ; 
Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see 
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave 
To stand on either part. 

2 Lord. It well may serve 
A nursery to our gentry, who are sick 

For breathing and exploit. 

King. What 's he comes here.^ 

Enter Bertram, Lafeu, a7id Parolles. 

I Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord, 
Young Bertram. 

King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face ; 

Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, 
Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts 
Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. 

Bertram. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. 

King. I would I had that corporal soundness now, 
As when thy father and myself in friendship 
First tried our soldiership ! He did look far 
Into the service of the time and was 
Discipled of the bravest : he lasted long; 
But on us both did haggish age steal on 
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me 
To talk pf your good father. In his youth 



43 



44 



ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, 



He had the wit which I can well observe 

To-day in our young lords; but they may jest 

Till their own scorn return to them unnoted 

Ere they can hide their levity in honour, 

So like a courtier. Contempt nor bitterness 

Were in his pride or sharpness ; if they were, 

His equal had awak'd them, and his honour, 

Clock to itself, knew the true minute when 

Exception bid him speak, and at this time 4' 

His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him 

He us'd as creatures of another place, 

And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, 

Making them proud of his humility, 

In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man 

Might be a copy to these younger times ; 

Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now 

But goers backward. 

Bertram. His good remembrance, sir. 

Lies richer m your thoughts than on his tomb ; 
So in approof lives not his epitaph s 

As in your royal speech. 

King. Would I were with him i He would always say— 
Methinks I heai" him now; his plausive words 
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them. 
To grow there and to bear, — ' Let me not live,' — 
This his good melancholy oft began, 
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, 
When it was out, — ' Let me not live,' quoth he, 
'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff 
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses 6. 

All but new things disdain, whose judgments are 
Mere fathers of their garments, whose constancies 
Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd; 
I after him do after him wish too, 
Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, 



ACT I. SCENE III. 



45 



I quickly were dissolved from my hive, 
To give some labourers room. 

2 Lord. You 're loved, sir ; 

They that least lend it you shall lack you first. 

King. I fill a place, I know 't. How long is 't, count. 
Since the physician at your father's died ? 70 

He was much fam'd. 

Bertram. Some six months since, my lord. 

King. If he were living, I would try him yet. — 
Lend me an arm. — The rest have worn me out 
With several applications; nature and sickness 
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count; 
My son 's no dearer. 

Bertram. Thank your majesty. 

{^Exeunt. Flourish. 

Scene HI. Rousillon. The Countess's Palace. 
Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown. 

Countess. I will now hear; what say you of this gentle- 
woman ? 

Steward. Madam, the care I have had to even your con- 
tent, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past en- 
deavours; for then we wound our modesty, and make foul 
the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish 
them. 

Countess. What does this knave here.'' — Get you gone, sir- 
rah! The complaints I have heard of you I do not all be- 
lieve : 't is my slowness that I do not; for I know you lack not 
folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such 
knaveries yours. ,2 

Clown. 'T is not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor 
fellow. 

Countess. Well, sir. 

Clown. No, madam, 't is not so well that I am poor, though 



46 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

many of the rich are damned ; but, if I may have your lady- 
ship's good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I 
will do as we may. 

Countess. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? nr 

Clown. I do beg your good will in this case. 

Countess. In what case? 

Clown. In IsbeFs case and mine own. Service is no her- 
itage: and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till 
I have issue o' my body ; for they say barnes are blessings. 

Countess. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry. 

Clown. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven 
on by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives. 

Countess. Is this all your worship's reason? 

Clown. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as 
they are. 3j 

Countess. May the world know them? 

Clown. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you 
and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that I 
may repent. 

Countess. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. 

Clown. I am out o' friends, madam ; and I hope to have 
friends for my wife's sake. 

Countess. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. 39 

Clown. You 're shallow, madam, in great friends; for the 
knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of He 
that ears my land spares my team and gives me leave to in 
the crop; if I be his cuckold, he 's my drudge : he that com- 
forts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood ; he that 
cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood ; he 
that loves my flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he that 
kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to 
be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young 
Charbon the puritan and old Poysam the papist, howsome'er 
their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both 
one; they may jowl horns together, like any deer i' the herd. 



ACT I. SCENE III. 47 

Countess. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious 
knave? 53 

Clown. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the 
next way: 

For I the ballad will repeat, 

Which men full true shall find; 
Your marriage comes by destiny, 
Your cuckoo sings by kind. 
Countess. Get you gone, sir; I '11 talk with you more anon. 
Stewai'd. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen 
come to you; of her I am to speak. 62 

Countess. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with 
her; Helen, I mean. 

Clown. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, 

Why the Grecians sacked Troy.-* 
Fond done, done fond. 

Was this King Priam's joy? 
With that she sighed as she stood, 
With that she sighed as she stood, 70 

And gave this sentence then : 
Among nine bad if one be good, 
Among nine bad if one be good, 
There 's yet one good in ten. 
Countess. What, one good in ten ? you corrupt the song, 
sirrah. 

Clown. One good woman in ten, madam ; which is a puri- 
fying o' the song: would God would serve the world so all 
the year! we 'd find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were 
the parson. One in ten, quoth a'! An we might have a 
good woman born but for every blazing star, or at an earth- 
quake, 't would mend the lottery well; a man may draw his 
heart out, ere a' pluck one. 83 

Countess. You '11 be gone, sir knave, and do as I command 
you. 

Clo7vn. That man should be at woman's command, and 



48 ALL 'S WELL TEA T ENDS WELL. 

yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will 
do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the 
black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth ; the busi- 
ness is for Helen to come hither, \Exit. 

Countess. Well, now. 91 

Steward. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman en- 
tirely. 

Countess. Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me; and 
she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title 
to as much love as she finds. There is more owing her than 
is paid ; and more shall be paid her than she '11 demand. 

Steii'ard. Madam, I was very late more near her than I 
think she wished me: alone she was, and did communicate 
to herself her own words to her own ears; she thought, I 
dare vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Her 
matter was, she loved your son. Fortune, she said, was no 
goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two es- 
tates; Love no god, that would not extend his might, only 
where qualities were level; Dian no queen of virgins, that 
would suffer her poor knight surprised, without rescue in the 
first assault or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the 
most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard virgin exclaim 
in: which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; 
sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you some- 
thing to know it. Ill 

Countess. You have discharged this honestly; keep it to 
yourself: many likelihoods informed me of this before, which 
hung so tottering in the balance that I could neither believe 
nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me. Stall this in your bosom ; 
and I thank you for your honest care. I will speak with you 
further anon. — \^Exit Steward. 

Enter Helena. 

Even so it was with me when I was young. 

If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn 
Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong ; 120 

Our blood to us, this to our blood is born. 



ACT I. SCEA'E III. 49 

It is the show and seal of nature's truth, 

Where love's strong passion is impressed in youth; 

By our remembrances of days foregone, 

Such were our faults — or then we thought them none, 

Her eye is sick on 't; I observe her now. 

Helena. What is your pleasure, madam? 

Countess. You know, Helen, 

1 am a mother to you. 

Helena. Mine honourable mistress. 

Countess. Nay, a mother; 

Why not a mother? When I said a mother, 130 

Methought you saw a serpent; what 's in mother, 
That you start at it? I say, I am your mother, 
And put you in the catalogue of those 
That were enwombed mine; 't is often seen 
Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds 
A native slip to us from foreign seeds. 
You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan, 
Yet I express to you a mother's care. 
God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood 
To say I am thy mother? What 's the matter, 140 

That this distemper'd messenger of wet. 
The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye? 
Why? that you are my daughter? 

Helena. That I am not. 

Countess. I say, I am your mother. 

Helena. Pardon, madam; 

The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother. 
I am from humble, he from honour'd name; 
No note upon my parents, his all noble. 
My master, my dear lord he is; and I 
His servant live, and will his vassal die: 
He must not be my brother. 

Countess. Nor I your mother? 15c 

Helena. You are my mother, madam; would vou were — 

D 



go ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

So that my lord your son were not my brother— 
Indeed my mother! or were you both our mothers, 
I care no more for than I do for heaven, 
So I were not his sister. Can't no other, 
But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? 

Countess. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law. 
God shield you mean it not! daughter and mother 
So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again? 
My fear hath catch'd your fondness; now I see 160 

The mystery of your loneliness, and find 
Your salt tears' head; now to all sense 't is gross 
You love my son ; invention is asham'd, 
Against the proclamation of thy passion, 
To say thou dost not : therefore tell me true; 
But tell me then, 't is so; for, look, thy cheeks 
Confess it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyes 
See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours 
That in their kind they speak it: only sin 
And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, 17c 

That truth should be suspected. Speak, is 't so? 
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew; 
If it be not, forswear 't: howe'er, I charge thee, 
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, 
To tell me truly. 

Hele?ia. Good madam, pardon me! 

Countess. Do you love my son ? 

Helena. Your pardon, noble mistress! 

Countess. Love you my son ? 

Hele7ia. Do not you love him, madam? 

Coimtess. Go not about; my love hath in 't a bond. 
Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose 
The state of your affection, for your passions 180 

Have to the full appeach'd. 

Helena. Then, I confess, 

Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, 



ACT I. SCENE in. 51 

That before you, and next unto high heaven, 

I love your son. 

My friends were poor, but honest; so 's my love; 

Be not offended ; for it hurts not him 

That he is lov'd of me. I follow him not 

By any token of presumptuous suit; 

Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; 

Yet never know how that desert should be. t«o 

I know I love in vain, strive against hope; 

Yet in this captious and intenible sieve 

I still pour in the waters of my love 

And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like, 

Religious in mine error, I adore 

The sun, that looks upon his worshipper. 

But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, 

Let not your hate encounter with my love 

For loving where you do: but if yourself. 

Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, 200 

Did ever in so true a flame of liking 

Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian 

Was both herself and love, O, then give pity 

To her whose state is such that cannot choose 

But lend and give where she is sure to lose; 

That seeks not to find that her search implies. 

But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies! 

Countess. Had you not lately an intent — speak truly — • 
To go to Paris? 

Heleiia. Madam, I had. 

Countess. Wherefore ? tell true. 

Helena. I will tell truth ; by grace itself I swear. 2i<; 

You know my father left me some prescriptions 
Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading 
And manifest experience had collected 
For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me 
In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them, 



52 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

As notes whose faculties inclusive were 

More than they were in note : amongst the rest 

There is a remedy, approv'd, set down, 

To cure the desperate languishings whereof 

The king is render'd lost. 

Coimtess. This was your motive 220 

For Paris, was it? speak. 

Helena. My lord your son made me to think of this; 
Else Paris and the medicine and the king 
Had from the conversation of my thoughts 
Haply been absent then. 

Countess. But think you, Helen, 

If you should tender your supposed aid. 
He would receive it? He and his physicians 
Are of a mind : he, that they cannot help him ; 
They, that they cannot help. How shall they credit 
A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, 230 

Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off 
The danger to itself? 

Helena. There 's something in 't, 

More than my father's skill, which was the greatest 
Of his profession, that his good receipt 
Shall for my legacy be sanctified 

By the luckiest stars in heaven ; and, would your honour 
But give me leave to try success, I 'd venture 
The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure 
Bv such a day and hour. 

' Countess. Dost thou believe 't ? 

Helena. Ay, madam, knowingly. =40 

Countess. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, 
Means and attendants, and my loving greetings 
To those of mine in court ; I '11 stay at home 
And pray God's blessing into thy attempt. 
Be gone to-morrow \ and be sure of this. 
What T can help thee to thou shalt not mi-ss. [Exeunt. 




INTEKIOK OF THE LOUVRE. 



ACT II. 
Scene I. Paris. The Kmg's Palace. 
Flourish of cornets. Enter the King, attended with divers yonn^i^ 
Lords taking leave for the Florentine war ; Bertram, and 
Parolles. 

King. Farewell, young lords ; these warlike principles 
Do not throw from you : — and you, my lords, farewell.— 
Share the advice betwixt you ; if both gain, all 
The gift doth stretch itself as 't is receiv'd, 
And is enough for both. 

I Lord. 'T is our hope, sir. 



54 ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 

After well enter'd soldiers, to return 
And find your grace in health. 

Ki?ig. No, no, it cannot be ; and yet my heart 
Will not confess he owes the malady 

That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords ; lo 

Whether I live or die, be you the sons 
Of worthy Frenchmen. Let higher Italy — 
Those bated that inherit but the fall 
Of the last monarchy — see that you come 
Not to woo honour, but to wed it ; when 
The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, 
That fame may cry you loud. I say, farewell. 

2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty! 

King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them ! 
They say, our French lack language to deny, 20 

If they demand; beware of being captives. 
Before you serve. 

Both. Our hearts receive your warnings. 

King. Farewell. — Come hither to me. ^Exit, attended. 

1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us ! 
Parolles. 'T is not his fault, the spark. 

2 Lord. O, 't is brave wars ! 
Parolles. Most admirable ; I have seen those wars. 
Bertram. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with, — 

*Too young' and 'the next year' and ' 't is too early.' 

Parolles. An thy mind stand to 't, boy, steal away bravely. 
Bertram. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, 30 
Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, 
Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn 
But one to dance with ! By heaven, I '11 steal away. 

1 Lord. There 's honour in che theft. 

Parolles. Commit it, count. 

2 Lord. I am your accessary ; and so, farewell. 
Bertram. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body. 
I Lord. Farewell, captain. 



ACT II. SCENE I. 55 

2 Lord. Sweet Monsieur Parolles ! 

Parollcs. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good 
sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals : you shall find in 
the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cica- 
trice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek ; it was 
this very sword entrenched it. Say to him, I live ; and ob- 
serve his reports for me. 

I Lord. We shall, noble captain. ^Exeunt Lords. 

Parolles. Mars dote on you for his novices ! what will ye 
do? 

Bertram. Stay; the king! 48 

Re-enter the King. Bertram a7id Parolles i-etire. 

Parolles. [To Per/ram] Use a more spacious ceremony 
to the noble lords ; you have restrained yourself within the 
list of too cold an adieu. Be more expressive to them : for 
they wear themselves in the cap of the time, there do muster 
true gait, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the 
most received star ; and though the devil lead the measure, 
such are to be followed. After them, and take a more di- 
lated farewell. 

Bertram. And I will do so. 

Parolles. Worthy fellows ; and like to prove most sinewy 
sword-men. [Exeunt Bertram a?td Parolles. 

Enter Lafeu. 
Lafeu. [Kneeling] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my 
tidings. 60 

King. I '11 fee thee to stand up. 

Lafeu. Then here 's a man stands, that has brought his 
pardon. 
I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy. 
And that at my bidding you could so stand up. 

King. I would I had ; so I had broke thy pate, 
And ask'd thee mercy for 't. 



56 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, 

Lafeu. Good faith, across ; but, my good lord, 't is thus 5 
Will you be cur'd of your infirmity ? 
King. No. 

Lafeu. O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox ? 70 

Yes, but you will my noble grapes, an if 
My royal fox could reach them. I have seen a medicine 
That 's able to breathe life into a stone, 
Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary 
With spritely fire and motion ; whose simple touch 
Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay, 
To give great Charlemain a pen in 's hand 
And write to her a love-line. 

Xino-. What her is this ? 

Lafeu. Why, Doctor She; my lord, there 's one arriv'd, 
If you will see her. Now, by my faith and honour, 80 

If seriously I may convey my thoughts 
In this my light deliverance, I have spoke 
With one that, in her sex, her years, profession, 
Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd me more 
Than I dare blame my weakness. Will you see her, 
For that is her demand, and know her business ? 
That done, laugh well at me. 

Xing. Now, good Lafeu, 

Bring in the admiration ; that we with thee 
May spend our wonder too, or take off thine 
By wondering how thou took'st it. 

Lafeu. Nay, I 'II fit you, 90 

And not be all day neither. {Exit. 

King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. 

Remter Lafeu, with Helena. 

Lafeu. Nay, come your ways. 

King. This haste hath wings indeed. 

Lafeu. Nay, come your ways. 
This is his majesty ; say your mind to him. 



AC 7^ 11. SCENE I. 57 

A traitor you do look like ; but such traitors 

His majesty seldom fears. I am Cressid's uncle, 

That dare leave two together ; fare you well. \Exit. 

King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us.-* 

Helena. Ay, my good lord. loo 

Gerard de Narbon was my father ; 
In what he did profess, well found. 

Ki7ig. I knew him. 

Helena. The rather will I spare my praises towards him ; 
Knowing him is enough. On 's bed of death 
Many receipts he gave me ; chiefly one, 
Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, 
And of his old experience the only darling, 
He bade me store up, as a triple eye, 
Safer than mine own two, more dear. I have so ; 
And, hearing your high majesty is touch'd no 

With that malignant cause wherein the honour 
Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, 
I come to tender it and my appliance 
With all bound humbleness. 

King. We thank you, maiden ; 

But may not be so credulous of cure, 
When our most learned doctors leave us, and 
The congregated college have concluded 
That labouring art can never ransom nature 
From her inaidible estate : I say we must not 
So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, 120 

To prostitute our past-cure malady 
To empirics, or to dissever so 
Our great self and our credit, to esteem 
A senseless help when help past sense we deem. 

Helena. My duty then shall pay me for my pains. 
I will no more enforce mine office on you ; 
Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts 
A modest one, to bear me back again. 



58 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful. 
Thou thought'st to help me ; and such thanks I give 130 

As one near death to those that wish him live : 
But what at full I know, thou know'st no part, 
I knowing all my peril, thou no art. 

Helena. What I can do can do no hurt to try. 
Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy. 
He that of greatest works is finisher 
Oft does them by the weakest minister : 
So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, 
When judges have been babes ; great floods have flown 
From simple sources, and great seas have dried 140 

When miracles have by the greatest been denied. 
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there 
Where most it promises ; and oft it hits 
Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits. 

King. I must not hear thee ; fare thee well, kind maid. 
Thy pains not us'd must by thyself be paid : 
Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward. 

Helena. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd : 
It is not so with Him that all things knows 
As 't is with us that square our guess by shows; 150 

But most it is presumption in us when 
The help of heaven we count the act of men. 
Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent ; 
Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. 
I am not an impostor that proclaim 
Myself against the level of mine aim ; 
But know I think, and think I know most sure, 
My art is not past power nor you past cure. 

King. Art thou so confident.? within what space 
Hop'st thou my cure ? 

Helena. The great'st grace lending grace, 

Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring i6i 

Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring. 



ACT II. SCEXE L ^g 

Ere twice in murk and occidental damp 
Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp, 
Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass 
Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, 
What is infirm frorn your sound parts shall fly, 
Health shall live free and sickness freely die. 

King. Upon thy certainty and confidence 
What dar'st thou venture ? 

Helena. Tax of impudence, 170 

A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame 
Traduc'd by odious ballads : my maiden's name 
Sear'd otherwise; nay, worst of worst extended, 
With vilest torture let my life be ended. 

King. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak 
His powerful sound within an organ weak; 
And what impossibility would slay 
In common sense, sense saves another way. 
Thy life is dear; for all that life can rate 
W^orth name of life in thee hath estimate, — 180 

Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all 
That happiness and prime can happy call: 
Thou this to hazard needs must intimate 
Skill infinite or monstrous desperate. 
Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, 
That ministers thine own death if I die. 

Helejia. If I break time, or flinch in property 
Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die. 
And well deserv'd : not helping, death's my fee; 
Eut, if I help, what do you promise me ? 190 

King. Make thy demand. 

Helena. But will you make it even ? 

King. Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven. 

Helena. Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand 
Wliat husband in thy power I will command. 
Exempted be from me the arrogance 



6o ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

To choose from forth the royal blood of France, 

My low and humble name to propagate 

With any branch or image of thy state ; 

But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know 

Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. 200 

King. Here is my hand; the premises observed, 
Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd. 
So make the choice of thy own time, for I, 
Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely. 
More should I question thee, and more I must,— 
Though more to know could not be more to trust, — 
From whence thou cam'st, how tended on ; but rest 
Unquestion'd welcome and undoubted blest. — 
Give me some help here, ho !— If thou proceed 
As high as word, my deed shall match thy meed. 210 

\Floiirish. Exeunt. 

Scene II. Roiisillon. The Conn ess' s Palace. 
Efifer Countess and Clown. 

Countess. Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height 
of your breeding. 

Clown. I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught; I 
know my business is but to the court. 

Countess. To the court ! why, what place make you special, 
when you put off that with such contempt ? But to the court ! 

Clown. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any man- 
ners, he may easily put it off at court. He that cannot make 
a leg, put off 's cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has nei- 
ther leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed such a fellow, to 
say precisely, were not for the court ; but for me, I have an 
answer will serve all men. '2 

Countess. Marry, that 's a bountiful answer that fits all 
questions. 

Clown. It is like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks, the 



ACT IL SCENE II. 6 1 

pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn -buttock, or any 
buttock. 

Coimtess. Will your answer serve fit to all questions? 
ClowJi. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, 
as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib's rush for 
Tom's forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris 
for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, 
as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to 
the friar's mouth, nay, as the pudding to his skin. 24 

Countess. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for 
all questions? 

Clown. From below your duke to beneath your constable, 
it will fit any question. 

Countess. It must be an answer of most monstrous size that 
must fit all demands. 3^ 

Clo7VJt. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned 
should speak truth of it; here it is, and all that belongs to 't. 
Ask me if I am a courtier ; it shall do you no harm to learn. 
Countess. To be young again, if we could, I will be a fool in 
question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, 
sir, are you a courtier ? 

Clown. O Lord, sir !— There 's a simple putting off.— More, 
more, a hundred of them. 

Countess. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you. 
Clown. O Lord, sir !— Thick, thick, spare not me. 40 

Countess. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. 
Cloivn. O Lord, sir !— Nay, put me to 't, I warrant you. 
Countess. You were lately whipped, sir, as I think. 
Clown. O Lord, sir !— Spare not me. 

Countess. Do you cry, ' O Lord, sir !' at your whipping, and 
^spare not me?' Indeed your 'O Lord, sir !' is very sequent 
to your whipping; you would answer very well to a whipping, 
if you were but bound to 't. 
^ Clown. I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my 'O Lord, 
sir !' I see things may serve long, but not serve ever. co 



62 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

Countess. I play the noble huswife with the time, 
To entertain 't so merrily with a fool. 

Clown. O Lord, sir !— Why, there 't serves well again. 

Countess. An end, sir ; to your business. Give Helen thisj 
And urge her to a present answer back; 
Commend me to my kinsmen and my son. 
This is not much. 

Clown. Not much commendation to them. 

Countess. Not much employment for you ; you understand 
me? ^° 

Clown. Most fruitfully; I am there before my legs. 

Countess. Haste you again. \_Exeunt severally. 

Scene HI. Paris. The King's Palace. 
Enter Lafeu and Parolles. 

Lafeu. They say miracles are past; and we have our phil- 
osophical persons, to make modern and familiar, things su- 
pernatural and causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles 
of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, 
when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear. Why, 
't is the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot out in our 
latter times. 

Parolles. And so 't is. 

Lafeu. To be relinquished of the artists,— 

Parolles. So I say. «« 

Lafeu. Both of Galen and Paracelsus, — 

Parolles. So I say. 

Lafeu. Of all the learned and authentic fellows, — 

Parolles. Right; so I say. 

Lafeu. That gave him out incurable, — 

Parolles. Why, there 't is ; so say I too. 

Lafeu. Not to be helped, — 

Parolles. Right; as 't were, a man assured of a — 

Lafeu. Uncertain life, and sure death. 



ACT 11. SCENE III. (iT^ 

Paro/lt's. Just, 3'ou say well; so would I have said. 20 

Lafeu. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. 

ParoUes. It is, indeed; if you will have it in showing, you 
shall read it in — what do ye call there ? 

Lafeu. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor. 

ParoUes. That 's it; I would have said the very same. 

Lafeu. Why, your dolphin is not lustier; fore me, I speak 
in respect — 

ParoUes. Nay, 't is strange, 't is very strange, that is the 
brief and the tedious of it; and he 's of a most facinerious 
spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the — 30 

Lafeu. Very hand of heaven. 

ParoUes. Ay, so I say. 

Lafeu. In a most weak — 

ParoUes. And debile minister, great power, great tran- 
scendence; which should, indeed, give us a further use to 
be made than alone the recovery of the king, as to be — 

Lafeu. Generally thankful, 

ParoUes. I would have said it; you say well. Here comes 
the king. 39 

Enter King, Helena, and Attendants. Lafeu a7id Pa- 
ROLLES retire. 

Lafeu. I.ustig, as the Dutchman says ! I '11 like a maid 
the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head; why, he 's able 
to lead her a coranto. 

ParoUes. Mort du vinaigre ! is not this Helen .-* 

Lafeu. Fore God, I think so. 

King. Go, call before me all the lords in court. — 

\Exit an Attendant. 
Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side; 
And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense 
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive 
The confirmation of my promis'd gift, 
Which but attends thy naming. so 



64 ALL 'S WELL THAT EiVDS WELL. 

Enter several Lords ajtd Bertram. 
Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful parcel 
Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, 
O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice 
I have to use. Thy frank election make; 
Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake. 

Helejia. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress 
Fall, when Love please ! marry, to each but one ! 

Lafeu. I 'd give bay Curtal and his furniture, 
My mouth no more were broken than these boys', 
And writ as little beard. 

King. Peruse them well; 6c 

Not one of those but had a noble father. 

Helena. Gentlemen, 
Heaven hath throuo:h me restor'd the kino^ to health. 

All. We understand it, and thank heaven for you. 

Helena. I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest. 
That I protest I simply am a maid. — 
Please it your majesty, I have done already: 
The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, 
'We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refus'd, 
Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever; 7c 

We '11 ne'er come there again.' 

King. Make choice; and, see, 

Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me. 

Helena. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly, 
And to imperial Love, that god most high. 
Do my sighs stream. — Sir, will you hear my suit? 

I Lord. And grant it. 

Helena. Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute. 

Lafeu. I had rather be in this choice than throw ames-ace 
for my life. 

Helena. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, 
Before I speak, too threateningly replies; & 



ACT 11. SCENE III. 65 

Love make your fortunes twenty times above 
Her that so wishes and her humble love ! 

2 Lord. No better, if you please. 

Helena. My wish receive, 

Which great Love grant ! and so, I take my leave. 

Lafeu. Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine, 
I 'd have them whipped; or I would send them to the Turk, 
to make eunuchs of 

Helena. Be not afraid that I your hand should take; 
I '11 never do you wrong for your own sake. 
Blessing upon youf vows ! and in your bed 90 

Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed ! 

Lafeu. These boys are boys of ice, they '11 none have her : 
sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got 
'em. 

Helena. You are too young, too happy, and too good, 
To make yourself a son out of my blood. 

4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so. 

Lafeu. There 's one grape yet; I am sure thy father drunk 
wine : but if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; 
I have known thee already. 100 

Helena. [To Ben'ram] I dare not say I take you; but I 
give 
Me and ray service, ever whilst I live. 
Into your guiding power. — This is the man. 

Xmg. Why, then, young Bertram, take her; she 's thy wife. 

Bertram. My wife, my liege ! I shall beseech your high^ 
ness. 
In such a business give me leave to use 
The help of mine own eyes. 

King. Know'st thou not, Bertram, 

What she has done for me ? 

Bertrafn. Yes, my good lord ; 

But never hope to know why I should marry her. 

Kifig. Thou know'st she has rais'd me from my sickly bed. 

E 



66 ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 

Bertram. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down m 
Must answer for your raising? I know her well; 
She had her breeding at my father's charge. 
A poor physician's daughter my wife ! Disdain 
Rather corrupt me ever ! 

King. 'T is only title thou disdain'st in her, the which 
I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods, 
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together. 
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off 
In differences so mighty. If she be 120 

All that is virtuous, save what thou dislik'st, 
A poor physician's daughter, thou dislik'st 
Of virtue for the name; but do not so. 
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 
The place is dignified by the doer's deed; 
Where great additions swell 's, and virtue none, 
It is a dropsied honour. Good alone 
Is good without a name. Vileness is so; 
The property by what it is should go, 

Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair; 130 

In these to nature she 's immediate heir. 
And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn, 
Which challenges itself as honour's born 
And is not like the sire. Honours thrive. 
When rather from our acts we them derive 
Than our foregoers; the mere word 's a slave 
Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave 
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb 
Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb 
Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said? 140 

If thou canst like this creature as a maid, 
I can create the rest : virtue and she 
Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me. 

Bertram. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do 't. 

King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose. 



ACT II. SCENE III. 67 

Helena. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I 'm glad; 
Let the rest go. 

Kmg. My honour 's at the stake; which to defeat 
I must produce my power. Here, take her hand, 
Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift, 15° 

That dost in vile misprision shackle up 
My love and her desert ; that canst not dream, 
^Ve, poising us in her defective scale, 
Shall weigh thee to the beam ; that wilt not know. 
It is in us to plant thine honour where 
We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt; 
Obey our will, which travails in thy good. 
Believe not thy disdain, but presently 
Do thine own fortunes that obedient right 
Which both thy duty owes and our power claims; 160 

Or I will throw thee from my care for ever 
Into the staggers and the careless lapse 
Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate 
Loosing upon thee, in the name of justice, 
Without all terms of pity. Speak! thine answer! 

Bertram. Pardon, my gracious lord ; for I submit 
My fancy to your eyes. When I consider 
What great creation and what dole of honour 
Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late 
AVas in my nobler thoughts most base, is now 170 

The praised of the king; who, so ennobled, 
Is as 't were born so. 

King. Take her by the hand. 

And tell her she is thine ; to whom I promise 
A counterpoise, if not to thy estate 
A balance more replete. 

Bertrajn. I take her hand. 

King. Good fortune and the favour of the king 
Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony 
Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, 



68 ALL 'S WELL TIL A T ENDS WELL. 

And be perform 'd to-night: the solemn feast 

Shall more attend upon the coming space, iSo 

Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her, 

Thy love 's to me religious ; else, does err. 

S^Exeunt all but Lafeu and Farolles. 

Lafeu. \Advanciiig\ Do you hear, monsieur? a word with 
you. 

Farolles. Your pleasure, sir.^ 

Lafeu. Your lord and master did well to make his recan- 
tation. 

Farolles. Recantation! My lord! my master! 

Lafeu. Ay; is it not a language I speak? 

Fa7'olles. A most harsh one, and not to be understood 
without bloody succeeding. My master! igi 

Lafeu. Are you companion to the Count Rousillon? 

Fai'olles. To any count, to all counts, to what is man. 

Lafeu. To what is count's man \ count's master is of an- 
other style. 

Farolles. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are 
too old. 

Lafeu. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man ; to which title 
age cannot bring thee. 

Farolles. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. 200 

Lafeu. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty 
wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of ihy travel; it 
might pass: yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee did 
manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too 
great a burthen. I have now found thee; when I lose thee 
again, I care not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking 
up, and that thou 'rt scarce worth. 

Farolles. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon 
thee, — 209 

Lafeu. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou 
hasten thy trial; which if — Lord have mercy on thee for a 
hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well; thy 



ACT II. SCENE III. 



69 



casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give 
me thy hand. 

Farolles. My lord, you give me most egregious indignity. 

Lafeu. Ay, with all my heart ; and thou art worthy of it. 

Farolles. I have not, my lord, deserved it. 

Lafeu. Yes, good faith, every dram of it ; and I will not 
bate thee a scruple. 

Farolles. Well, I shall be wiser. 220 

Lafeu. Even as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at 
a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy 
scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy 
bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with 
thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say in the default, 
he is a man I know. 

Farolles. My lord, you do me most insupportable vexa- 
tion. 228 

Lafeu. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my 
poor doing eternal; for doing I am past, as I will by thee, 
in what motion age will give me leave. S^Exit. 

Farolles. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off 
me, scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! — Well, I must be patient; 
there is no fettering of authority. I '11 beat him, by my life, 
if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double 
and double a lord. I '11 have no more pity of his age than I 
would have of — I '11 beat him, an if I could but meet him 
again. 

Re-enter Lafeu. 

Lafeu. Sirrah, your lord and master 's married; there 's 
news for you : you have a new mistress. 240 

Farolles. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to 
make some reservation of your wrongs. He is my good lord ; 
whom I serve above is my master. 

Lafeu. V^^hol God.? 

Farolles. Ay, sir. 

Lafeu. The devil it is that 's thy master. Why dost thou 



70 



ALL'S WELL TIL AT ENDS WELL. 



garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of thy 
sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower 
part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but 
two hours younger, I 'd beat thee; methinks, thou art a gen- 
eral offence, and every man should beat thee. I think thou 
wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. 252 

Parolles. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord. 

Lafeu. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a 
kernel out of a pomegranate. You are a vagabond and no 
true traveller; you are more saucy with lords and honourable 
personages than the commission of your birth and virtue 
gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, else 
I 'd call you knave. I leave you. \^Exit. 

Parolles. Good, very good ; it is so then : good, very good; 
let it be concealed awhile. 261 

Re-enter Bertram. 

Bertram. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! 

Parolles. What 's the matter, sweet-heart? 

Bertram. Although before the solemn priest I have 
sworn, 
I will not bed her. 

Parolles. What, what, sweet-heart? 

Bertram. O my Parolles, they have married me ! 
I '11 to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. 

Parolles. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits 
The tread of a man's foot ; to the wars ! 270 

Bertram. There 's letters from my mother; what the im- 
port is, I know not yet. 

Parolles. Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, 
to the wars! 
He wears his honour in a box unseen, 
That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, 
Spending his manly marrow in her arms, 
Which should sustain the bound and high curvet 



ACT 11. SCENE IV. 71 

Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions 

France is a stable, we that dwell in 't jades; 

Therefore, to the war! 280 

Bertram. It shall be so. I '11 send her to my house, 
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her. 
And wherefore I am fled ; write to the king 
That which I durst not speak: his present gift 
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields, 
Where noble fellows strike. War is no strife 
To the dark house and the detested wife. 

Farolles. Will this capriccio hold in thee? art sure? 

Bertram. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. 
I '11 send her straight away ; to-morrow 290 

I '11 to the wars, she to her single sorrow. 

Farolles. Why, these balls bound ; there 's noise in it. — 
'T is hard. 
A young man married is a man that 's marr'd: 
Therefore away, and leave her bravely ; go. 
The king has done you wrong; but, hush! 't is so. \_Exeunt. 

Scene IV. Paris. The King's Palace. 
Enter Helena and Clown. 

Helena. My mother greets me kindly; is she well? 

Cloum. She is not well; but yet she has her health: she 's 
very merry; but yet she is not well: but thanks be given, 
she 's very well and wants nothing i' the world ; but yet she 
is not well. 

HeleJia. If she be very well, what does she ail, that she 's 
not very well? 

Clow7t. Truly, she 's very well indeed, but for two things. 

Helena. What two things? 

Clo7vn. One, that she 's not in heaven, whither God send 
her quickly! the other, that she 's in earth, from whence God 
send her quickly! 12 



y2 ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 



Enter Parolles. 

Parolles. Bless you, my fortunate lady! 

Helena. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine 
own good fortunes. 

Parolles. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to 
keep them on, have them still. — O, my knave, how does my 
old lady? 

Clown. So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I 
would she did as you say. 20 

Parolles. Why, I say nothing. 

Clown. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's 
tongue shakes out his master's undoing. To say nothing, to 
do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a 
great part of your title; which is within a very little of noth- 
ing. 

Parolles. Away! thou 'rt a knave. 

Clow7i. You should have said, sir, before a knave thou 'rt a 
knave; that 's, before me thou 'rt a knave: this had been 
truth, sir. 30 

Parolles. Go to, thou art a witty fool ; I have found thee. 

Clown. Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you 
taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; and 
much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure 
and the increase of laughter. 

Parolles. A good knave, i' faith, and well fed. — 
Madam, my lord will go away to-night; 
A very serious business calls on him. 
The great prerogative and rite of love, 

Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge, 40 
But puts it off to a compell'd restraint; 
Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets. 
Which they distil now in the curbed time, 
To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy 
And pleasure drown the brim. 



ACT IL SCENE V. 



73 



Helena. What 's his will else? 

Parolles. That you will take your instant leave o' the king, 
And make this haste as your o\vn good proceeding, 
Strengthen'd with what apology you think 
May make it probable need. 

Helena. What more commands he? 

Parolles. That, having this obtain'd, you presently 50 

Attend his further pleasure. 

Helena. In every thing I wait upon his will. 

Parolles. I shall report it so. 

Helena. I pray you.— \Exit Parolles.'] 

Come, sirrah. ^Exeunt. 

Scene V. Paris. The Kin^s Palace. 
Enter Lafeu and Bertram. 

Lafeu. But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier. 

Bertram. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof 

Lafeu. You have it from his own deliverance. 

Bertram. And by other warranted testimony. 

Lafeu. Then my dial goes not true ; I took this lark for a 
bunting. 

Bertram. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in 
knowledge and accordingly valiant. 

Lafeu. I have then sinned against his experience and 
transgressed against his valour; and my state that way is 
dangerous, since I cannot 3^et find in my heart to repent. 
Here he comes: I pray you, make us friends; I will pursue 
the amity. 13 

Enter Parolles. 

Parolles. [To Bert7-atn\ These things shall be done, sir. 
Lafeu. Pray you, sir, who 's his tailor ? 
Parolles. Sir? 

Lafeu. O, I know him well, I, sir; he, sir, 's a good work- 
man, a very good tailor. 



74 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

Bertram. [Aside to Parolles\ Is she gone to the king? 

Par lies. She is. * 20 

Bertram. Will she away to-night? 

Parolles. As you '11 have her. 

Bertram, I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, 
Given order for our horses; and to-night, 
When I should take possession of the bride, 
End ere I do begin. 

Lafeu. A good traveller is something at the latter end of 
a dinner; but one that lies three thirds, and uses a known 
truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard 
and thrice beaten. — God save you, captain. 30 

Be?tram. Is there any unkindness between my lord and 
you, monsieur ? 

Parolles. I know not how I have deserved to run into my 
lord's displeasure. 

Lafeu. You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs 
and all, like him that leaped into the custard; and out of it 
you '11 run again, rather than suffer question for your resi- 
dence. 

Bertram. It may be you have mistaken him, my lord. 39 

Lafeu. And shall do so ever, though I took him at 's prayers. 
Fare you well, my lord ; and believe this of me, there can be 
no kernel in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes. 
Trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept 
of them tame, and know their natures. — Farewell, monsieur : 
I have spoken better of you than you have or will deserve at 
my hand; but we must do good against evil. [Exit. 

Parolles. An idle lord, I swear. 

Bertram. I think so. 

Parolles. Why, do you not know him ? 

Bertram. Yes, I do know him well, and common speech 
Gives him a worthy pass. — Here comes my clog. si 



ACT IL SCENE V. 75 



Enter Helena. 

Helena. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, 
Spoke with the king and have procur'd his leave 
For present parting; only he desires 
Some private speech with you. 

Bertram. I shall obey his will. 

You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, 
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does 
The ministration and required office 
On my particular. Prepar'd I was not 

For such a business; therefore am I found 60 

So much unsettled. This drives me to entreat you 
That presently you take your way for home. 
And rather muse than ask why I entreat you; 
For my respects are better than they seem, 
And my appointments have in them a need 
Greater than shows itself at the first view 
To you that know them not. This to my mother. 

YGivinga letter. 
'T will be two days ere I shall see you, so 
I leave you to your wisdom. 

Hele?ia. Sir, I can nothing say, 

But that I am your most obedient servant. 70 

Bertram. Come, come, no more of that. 

Helena. And ever shall 

With true observance seek to eke out that 
Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd 
To equal my great fortune. 

Bertram. Let that go ; 

My haste is very great. Farewell ; hie home. 

Helena. Pray, sir, your pardon. 

Bertram. Well, what would you say ? 

Helena. I am not worthy of the wealth I owCp 
Nor dare I say 't is mine, and yet it is; 



76 



ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 



But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal 
What law does vouch mine own. 

Bertram. What would you have ? 

Helena. Something; — and scarce so much; — nothing, in- 
deed. 8i 
I would not tell you what I would, my lord : — 
Faith, yes ; — 
Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss. 

Bertram. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. 

Helena. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. 

Bertram. Where are my other men, monsieur ? — Farewell. 

\Exit Hele?ia. 
Go thou toward home ; where I will never come 
Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum. — 
Away, and for our flight. 

Farolles. Bravely, coragio ! \Exeiint. 





COURT OF THE DUKe'S PALACE, FLORENCE. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. Floreiice. The puke's Palace. 

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, attended ; the two 

Frenchmen., with a troop of soldiers. 

Duke. So that from point to point now have you heard 
The fundamental reasons of this war, 
Whose great decision hath much blood let forth 
And more thirsts after. 

I Lord. Holy seems the quarrel 

Upon your grace's part ; black and fearful 
On the opposer. 



ng ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

Duke. Therefore we marvel much our cousin France 
Would in so just a business shut his bosom 
Against our borrowing prayers. 

2 Lord. Good my lord, 

The reasons of our state I cannot yield lo 

But like a common and an outward man, 
That the great figure of a council frames 
By self-unable motion ; therefore dare not 
Say what I think of it, since I have found 
Myself in my incertain grounds to fail 
As often as I guess'd. 

Duke. Be it his pleasure. 

I Lord. But I am sure the younger of our nature, 
That surfeit on their ease, will day by day 
Come here for physic. 

Duke. Welcome shall they be. 

And all the honours that can fly from us 20 

Shall on them settle. You know your places well ; 
^Vhen better fall, for your avails they fell : 
To-morrow to the field. [^Fiourish. Exeu?it. 

Scene II. RousilUm. The Countess's Palace. 
Enter Countess and Clown. 

Countess. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save 
that he comes not along with her. 

Clowft. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very 
melancholy man. 

Countess. By what observance, I pray you .'' 

Clown. AVhy, he will look upon his boot and sing, mend 
the ruff and sing, ask questions and sing, pick his teeth and 
sing. I knew a man that had this trick of melancholy hold 
a goodly manor for a song. 9 

Countess. Let me see what he writes, and when he means 
to come. ^Opening a letter. 



ACT III. SCENE II. 



79 



Clown. I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court : our 
old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing like your 
old ling and your Isbels o' the court; the brains of my 
Cupid 's knocked out, and I begin to love, as an old man 
loves money, with no stomach. 

Countess, What have we here ? 17 

Clown. E'en that you have there. [Exit. 

Countess. [Reads] / have sent you a daughter-in-law ; she 
hath recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded her, 
Jiot bedded her ; and sworn to make the ' not^ eternal. You shall 
hear I am run away; know it before the report come. Jf there 
be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My 
duty to you. Your unfortunate son, Bertram. 

This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, 
To fly the favours of so good a king; 
To pluck his indignation on thy head 
By the misprising of a maid too virtuous 
For the contempt of empire. 

Re-enter Clown. 

Clow?i. O madam, yonder is heavy news within between 
two soldiers and my young lady ! 31 

Countess. What is the matter ? 

Clown. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some com- 
fort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he 
would. 

Countess. Why should he be killed? 

Clown. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does • 
the danger is in standing to 't. Here they come will tell you 
more; for my part, I only hear your son was run away. 

[Exit. 
Enter Helena and two Gentlemen. 

1 Ge7itleman. Save you, good madam. 40 
Helena. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 

2 Gentlefnan. Do not say so. 



8o ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 

Countess. Think upon patience. — Pray you, gentlemen, — 
I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief, 
That the first face of neither, on the start, 
Can woman me unto 't ; — where is my son, I pray you ? 

2 Gentkfnan. Madam, he 's gone to serve the duke of 
Florence. 
We met him thitherward ; for thence we came, 
And, after some dispatch in hand at court, 
Thither we bend again. 50 

Helejia. Look on his letter, madam ; here 's my passport. 
[Reads] When, thou canst get the rmg upon my finger which 
never shall come off., arid show me a child begotten of thy body 
that I am father to, then call me husband; but in such a ' then^ 
I write a ''never.'' 
This is a dreadful sentence. 

Countess. Brought you this letter, gentlemen ? 

1 Gentleman. Ay, madam. 
And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pains. 

Countess. I prithee, lady, have a better cheer; 
If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, 60 

Thou robb'st me of a moiety. He was my son. 
But I do wash his name out of my blood. 
And thou art all my child.— Towards Florence is he.? 

2 Gentleman. Ay, madam. 

Cou7itess. And to be a soldier? 

2 Gentleman. Such is his noble purpose; and, believe 't, 
The duke will lay upon him all the honour 
That good convenience claims. 

Countess. Return you thither.? 

I Gentlemaji. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. 

Helena. [Reads] Till I have no wife, I have nothing ift 
France: 7° 

'T is bitter. 

Countess. Find you that there ? 

Helena. Ay, madam. 



ACT III. SCENE II. 8 1 

I Gentleman, 'T is but the boldness of his hand, which, 
haply, 
His heart was not consenting to. 

Cou7itess. Nothing in France, until he. have no wife! 
There 's nothing here that is too good for him 
But only she ; and she deserves a lord 
That twenty such rude boys might tend upon 
And call her hourly mistress. — Who was with him t 

I Gentleman. A servant only, and a gentleman 8© 

Which I have sometime known. 

Countess. ParoUes, was it not } 

I Gentleman. Ay, my good lady, he. 

Countess. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. 
My son corrupts a well-derived nature 
With his inducement. 

1 Gentle??ian. Indeed, good lady, 
The fellow has a deal of that too much, 
Which holds him much to have. 

Countess. You 're welcome, gentlemen. 
I will entreat you, when you see my son, 
To tell him that his sword can never win 90 

The honour that he loses ; more I '11 entreat you 
Written to bear along. 

2 Gentleman. We serve you, madam, 
In that and all your worthiest affliirs. 

Countess. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. 
Will you draw near? \_Exeu?tt Countess a?id Gentlemen. 

Helena. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.' 
Nothing in France, until he has no wife! 
Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France; 
Then hast thou all again. Poor lord ! is 't I 
That chase thee from thy country, and expose 100 

Those tender limbs of thine to the event 
Of the none-sparing war? and is it I 
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou 

F 



82 ALL'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 

Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark 

Of smoky muskets ? O you leaden messengers, 

That ride upon the violent speed of fire, 

Fly with false aim ; move the still-piecing air. 

That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord! 

Whoever shoots at him, I set him there \ 

Whoever charges on his forward breast, no 

I am the caitiff that do hold him to 't ; 

And, though I kill him not, I am the cause 

His death was so effected. Better 't were 

I met the ravin lion when he roar'd 

With sharp constraint of hunger ; better 't were 

That all the miseries which nature owes 

Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon, 

Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, 

As oft it loses all ; I will be gone. 

My being here it is that holds thee hence. 120 

Shall I stay here to do 't.? no, no, although 

The air of paradise did fan the house 

And angels offic'd all. I will be gone, 

That pitiful rumour may report my flight. 

To consolate thine ear. Come, night ; end, day ! 

For with the dark, poor thief, I '11 steal away. \Exit. 

Scene III. Florence. Before the Duke's Palace. 

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, Lords, 

Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets. 

Duke. The general of our horse thou art ; and we, 
Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence 
Upon thy promising fortune. 

Bertram. Sir, it is 

A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet 
We '11 strive to bear it for your worthy sake 
To the extreme edge of hazard. 



ACT III. SCENE IV. Z^, 

Duke. Then go thou forth ; 

And fortune play upon thy prosperous hehn, 
As thy auspicious mistress ! 

Bertram. This very day, 

Great Mars, I put m3^self into thy file ; 

Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove lo 

A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeunt 



Scene IV. Rousillon. The Coimtess's Palace. 
Enter Countess and Steward. 

Countess. Alas ! and would you take the letter of her ? 
Might you not know she would do as she has done, 
By sending me a letter? Read it again. 

Steward. [Reads] 
/ am Saint Jaques' pilgrbn^ thither gone ; 

Ambitious love hath so in me offended, 
That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, 

With sainted vow my faults to have amended. 
Write, write, that from the bloody course of war 

My dearest master, your dear son, may hie ; 
Bless him at hojne in peace, 7vhilst I from far ,o 

His name with zealous fervour sanctify. 
His taken labours bid him me forgive ; 

I, his despiteful yuno, sent him forth 
Erom courtly friends, with campi7tg foes to live. 

Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth : 
He is too good and fair for death and me; 

Whom I myself embrace, to set him free. 

Countess. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words ! 
Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, 
As letting her pass so ; had I spoke with her, 20 

I could have well diverted her intents. 
Which thus she hath prevented. 

Steward. Pardon me, madam. 



84 ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 

If I had given you this at over-night, 

She might have been o'erta'en ; and yet she writes, 

Pursuit would be but vain. 

Countess. What angel shall 

Bless this unworthy husband ? he cannot thrive, 
Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear 
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath 
Of greatest justice. — Write, write, Rinaldo, 
To this unworthy husband of his wife ; 30 

Let every word weigh heavy of her worth 
That he does weigh too light ; my greatest grief, 
Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. 
Dispatch the most convenient messenger. — • 
When haply he shall hear that she is gone, 
He will return ; and hope I may that she, 
Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, 
Led hither by pure love. Which of them both 
Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense 
To make distinction. — Provide this messenger. — 40 

My heart is heavy and mine age is weak ; 
Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. \Exeunt. 

Scene V. Florence. Without the walls. A tucket afar off. 

Enter an old Widow of Florence^ Diana, Violenta, and 
Mariana, with other Citizens. 

Widow. Nay, come ; for if they do approach the city, we 
shall lose all the sight. 

Diana. They say the French count has done most hon- 
ourable service. 

Widow. It is reported that he has taken their greatest 
commander, and that with his own hand he slew the duke's 
brother. \^Tucket.'\ We have lost our labour, they are gone a 
contrary way ; hark ! you may know by their trumpets. 8 

Mariana. Come, let 's return again, and suffice ourselves 



ACT III, SCENE V. 85 

with the report of it — Well, Diana, take heed of this French 
earl ; the honour of a maid is her name, and no legacy is so 
rich as honesty. 

Widow. I have told my neighbour how you have been so- 
licited by a gentleman his companion, 

Mariana. I know that knave, hang him ! one Parolles ; a 
filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl. — 
Beware of them, Diana ; their promises, enticements, oaths, 
tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they 
go under. Many a maid hath been seduced by them ; and 
the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck 
of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but 
that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I 
hope I need not to advise you further; but I hope your own 
grace will keep you where you are, though there were no 
further danger known but the modesty which is so lost. 25 

Diana. You shall not need to fear me. 

Widow. I hope so. — 

Enter Helena, disguised like a Pilgrim. 

Look, here comes a pilgrim. I know she will lie at my 
house ; thither they send one another. I '11 question her. — 
God save you, pilgrim ! whither are you bound ? 30 

Helena. To Saint Jaques le Grand. 
Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you.? 

Widow. At the Saint Francis here beside the port. 

Helena. Is this the way ? 

Widoiv. Ay, marry, is 't. — \_A fnarch afarj] Hark you! 
they come this way. — 
If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, 
But till the troops come by, 
I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd; 
The rather, for I think I know your hostess 
As ample as myself. 

HeleJia. Is it yourself? 4« 



86 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

Widow. If you shall please so, pilgrim. 

Helena. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. 

Widow. You came, I think, from France ? 

Helena. I did so. 

Widow. Here you shall see a countryman of yours 
That has done worthy service. 

Helena. His name, I pray you. 

Diana. The Count Rousillon ; know you such a one? 

Helena. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him ; 
His face I know not. 

Diana. Whatsome'er he is, 

He 's bravely taken here. He stole from France, 
As 't is reported, for the king had married him 50 

Against his liking; think you it is so? 

Helena. Ay, surely, mere the truth ; I know his lady. 

Diana. There is a gentleman that serves the count 
Reports but coarsely of her. 

Helena. What 's his name? 

Diana. Monsieur Parolles. 

Helena. O, I believe with him, 

In argument of praise, or to the worth 
Of the great count himself, she is too mean 
To have her name repeated ; all her deserving 
Is a reserved honesty, and that 
I have not heard examin'd. 

Diana. Alas, poor lady! 60 

'T is a hard bondage to become the wife 
Of a detesting lord. 

Widow. I write, good creature, wheresoever she is. 
Her heart weighs sadly ; this young maid might do her 
A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd. 

Helena. How do you mean ? 

May be the amorous count solicits her 
In the unlawful purpose. 

Wido7v. He does indeed, 



ACT III. SCENE V. 87 



And brokes with all that can in such a suit 
Corrupt the tender honour of a maid ; 
But she is arm'd for him and keeps her guard 
In honestest defence. 

Afariana. The gods forbid else ! 

Widow. So, now they come. 



Drum and Colours. 
E?iter Bertram, Parolles, a7td the whole army. 
That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son ; 
That, Escalus. 

Hele?ia. Which is the Frenchman ? 

Diana. He ; 

That with the plume : 't is a most gallant fellow. 
I would he lov'd his wife ; if he were honester, 
He were much goodlier. Is 't not a handsome gentleman ? 

Hele7ia. I like him well. 

Diana. 'T is pity he is not honest. Yond 's that same knave 
That leads him to these places ; were I his lady, 80 

I would poison that vile rascal. 

Helena. Which is he ? 

Diana. That jack-an-apes with scarfs ; why is he melan- 
choly ? 

Helena. Perchance he 's hurt i' the battle. 

Parolles. Lose our drum ! well. 

Mariafia. He 's shrewdly vexed at something ; look, he 
has spied us. 

Widow. Marry, hang you ! 

Mariana. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier ! 

\_Exeunt Bertram^ Parolles, and army. 

Widow. The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you 
Where you shall host; of enjoin'd penitents 91 

There 's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound, 
Already at my house. 

Helena. I humbly thank you. 



88 ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 

Please it this matron and this gentle maid 
To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking 
Shall be for me ; and, to requite you further, 
I will bestow some precepts of this virgin 
Worthy the note. 

Both. We '11 take your offer kindly. [Exeunt. 

Scene VI. Camp before Florence. 
Enter Bertram and the two French Lords. 

1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to 't ; let him have 
his way. 

2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a hikling, hold me 
no more in your respect. 

I Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. 

Bertram. Do you think I am so far deceived in him ? 

1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, 
without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he 's 
a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly 
promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy 
your lordship's entertainment. n 

2 Lord. It were fit you knew him ; lest, reposing too far in 
his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and 
trusty business in a main danger fail you. 

Bertram. I would I knew in what particular action to try 
him. 

2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, 
which you hear him so confidently undertake to do. 

I Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly sur- 
prise him; such I will have whom I am sure he knows not 
from the enemy. We will bind and hoodwink him, so that 
he shall, suppose no other but that he is carried into the 
leaguer of the adversaries when we bring him to our own 
tents. Be but your lordship present at his examination; if 
he do not, for the promise of his life and in the highest com* 



AC 7 III. SCENE VI. 89 

pulsion of base fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the 
intelligence in his power against you, and that with the di- 
vine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment 
in any thing. 29 

2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum ! 
he says he has a stratagem for 't. When your lordship sees 
the bottom of his success in 't, and to what metal this coun- 
terfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John 
Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. 

Here he comes. 

Enter Parolles. 

1 Lord. S^Aside to Bertram\ O, for the love of laughter, 
hinder not the humour of his design ! let him fetch off his 
drum in any hand. 

Bertram. How now, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in 
your disposition. 40 

2 Lord. A pox on 't, let it go ; 't is but a drum. 
Farolles. But a drum! is 't but a drum? A drum so lost! 

There was excellent command, — to charge in with our horse 
upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers! 

2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of 
the service; it was a disaster of war that Caesar himself 
could not have prevented, if he had been there to command. 

Bertram. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success; 
some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum, but it is 
not to be recovered. 50 

Parolles. It might have been recovered. 

Bertram. It might ; but it is not now. 

Farolles. It is to be recovered ; but that the merit of ser- 
vice is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I 
would have that drum or another, or hie jacet. 

Bertram. Why, if you have a stomach, to 't, monsieur. If 
you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instru- 
ment of honour again into his native quarter, be magnani- 
mous in the enterprise and go on ; I will grace the attempt 



^ 



90 



ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 



for a worthy exploit. If you speed well in it, the duke shall 
both speak of it, and extend to you what further becomes his 
greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness. 62 

Pdrolles. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. 

Bertram. But you must not now slumber in it. 

FaroUes. I '11 about it this evening; and I will presently 
pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, 
put myself into my mortal preparation ; and by midnight 
look to hear further from me. 

Bertram. May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are 
gone about it? 7° 

FaroUes. I know not what the success will be, my lord; 
but the attempt I vow. 

Bertram. I know thou 'rt valiant, and, to the possibility 
of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell. 

FaroUes. I love not many words. \Exit. 

1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water. — Is not this a 
strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to under- 
take this business, which he knows is not to be done? damns 
himself to do, and dares better be damned than to do 't? 79 

2 Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as we do. Cer- 
tain it is, that he will steal himself into a man's favour and 
for a week escape a great deal of discoveries ; but when you 
find him out, you have him ever after. 

Bertram. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all 
of this that so seriously he does address himself unto? 

1 Lord. None in the world, but return with an invention 
and clap upon you two or three probable lies. But we have 
almost embossed him : you shall see his fall to-night; for in- 
deed he is not for your lordship's respect. 89 

2 Lord. We '11 make you some sport with the fox ere we 
case him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu. 
When his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat 
you shall find him ; which you shall see this very night. 

I Lord. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught. 



ACT III. SCExVE VI L 



91 



Bertram. Your brother he shall go along with me. 

1 Lord. As 't please your lordship. I '11 leave you. \_Exit. 
Bert7'am. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you 

The lass I spoke of. 

2 Lord. But you say she 's honest. 
Bertram. That 's all the fault. I spoke with her but once 

And found her wondrous cold, but I sent to her, 100 

By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind, 

Tokens and letters, which she did re-send; 

And this is all I have done. She 's a fair creature; 

Will you go see her ? 

2 Lj)rd. With all my heart, my lord. \Exeunt, 

Scene VII. Florence. The Widow's House. 
E7iter Helena and Widow. 

Helena. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, 
I know not how I shall assure you further, 
But I shall lose the grounds I work upon. 

Widow. Though my estate be fallen, I was well born. 
Nothing acquainted with these businesses, 
And would not put my reputation now 
In any staining act. 

Helena. Nor would I wish you. 

First, give me trust, the count he is my husband, 
And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken 
Is so from word to word; and then you cannot, ,0 

By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, 
Err in bestowing it. 

Wido7u. I should believe you; 

For you have show'd me that which well approves 
You 're great in fortune. 

Helena. Take this purse of gold. 

And let me buy your friendly help thus far, 
Which I will overpay and pay again 



92 



ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 



When I have found it. The count he wooes your daughter, 

Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, 

Resolv'd to carry her; let her in fine consent, 

As we '11 direct her how 't is best to bear it. 20 

Now his important blood will nought deny 

That she '11 demand. A ring the county wears. 

That downward hath succeeded in his house 

From son to son, some four or five descents 

Since the first father wore it; this ring he holds 

In most rich choice, yet in his idle fire. 

To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, 

Howe'er repented after. 

Widow. Now I see 

The bottom of your purpose. 

Helena. You see it lawful, then ; it is no more 30 

But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, 
Desires this ring, appoints him an encounter, 
In fine, delivers me to fill the time. 
Herself most chastely absent. After this. 
To marry her, I '11 add three thousand crowns 
To what is past already. 

Widow. I have yielded ; 

Instruct my daughter how she shall persever. 
That time and place with this deceit so lawful 
May prove coherent. Every night he comes 
With music of all sorts and songs compos'd 40 

To her unworthiness; it nothing steads us 
To chide him from our eaves, for he persists 
As if his life lay on 't. 

Helena. Why then to-night 

Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, 
Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed 
And lawful meaning in a lawful act, 
Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact: 
But let 's about it. [Exeunt. 



'l'"*L.. 




FLORENTINE CAMP AND GENERAL VIEW OF FLORENCE. 



ACT IV. 
Scene I. Without the Florentine Camp. 
Enter i French Lord, 7vith five or six Soldiers in ambus. 

I Lord. He can come no other way but by this hed^e- 
corner. When you sally upon him, speak what terrible lan- 
guage you will : though you understand it not yourselves, no 
matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless some 
one among us whom we must produce for an interpreter. 
I Soldier. Good captain, let me be the interpreter. 



94 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

I Lord. Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy 
voice ? 

I Soldier. No, sir, I warrant you. 

I Lord. But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us 
again ? 

I Soldier. E'en such as you speak to me. 

I Lord. He must think us some band of strangers i' the 
adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all 
neighbouring languages; therefore we must every one be a 
man of his own fancy, not to know what we speak one to an- 
other; so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose : 
choughs' language, gabble enough, and good enough. — As 
for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. — But couch, 
ho ! here he comes, to beguile two hours in a sleep, and 
then to return and swear the lies he forges. 21 

Enter Parolles. 

Parolles. Ten o'clock; within these three hours 't will be 
time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done ? 
It must be a very plausive invention that carries it ; they 
begin to smoke me, and disgraces have of late knocked too 
often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy; but 
my heart hath the fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, 
not daring the reports of my tongue. 

I Lord. [Aside, iu the ambush^ This is the first truth that 
e'er thine own tongue was guilty of. 30 

Parolles. What the devil should move me to undertake 
the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the impos- 
sibility, and knowing I had no such purpose ? I must give 
myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit : yet slight 
ones will not carry it; they will say, 'Came you off with so 
little ?' and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what 's 
the instance ? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman's 
mouth and buy myself another of Bajazet's mule, if you prat- 
tle me into these perils. 39 



ACT IV. SCENE L q- 

I Lord. Is it possible he should know what he is, and be 
that he is ? 

Parolks. I would the cutting of my garments would serve 
the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword. 
I Lord. We cannot afford you so. 

Farolles. Or the baring of my beard ; and to say it was 
in stratagem. 

I Lord. 'T would not do. 

Parollcs. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped. 
I Lord. Hardly serve. ^^ 

Parolks. Though I swore I leaped from the window of 
the citadel — 

I Lord. How deep ? 
Parolles. Thirty fathom. 

I Lord. Three great oaths would scarce make that be be- 
lieved. 

Parolles. I would I had any drum of the enemy's; I would 
swear I recovered it. 

I Lord. You shall hear one anon. 
Parolles. A drum now of the enemv's! 

{Alarum within. They rush out of the ambush 
and seize Iiiin. 
I Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, carf^o. 
AIL Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo. 
Parolles. O, ransom, ransom ! do not hide mine eyes. 
I Soldier. Boskos thromuldo boskos. {They blindfold him, 
Parolles. I know you are the Muskos' regiment. 
And I shall lose my life for want of language. 
If there be here German, or Dane, Low Dutch, 
Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I '11 
Discover that which shall undo the Florentine. 

I Soldier. Boskos vauvado; I understand thee, an.. ...... 

speak thy tongue. Kerelybonto; sir, betake thee to thy 
faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy bosom. 
Parolles. O! 



60 



68 

cl can 



96 ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 

I Soldier. O, pray, pray, pray ! Manka revania dukhe. 

I Lord. Oscorbidulchos volivorco. 

I Soldier. The general is content to spare thee yet. 
And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on 
To gather from thee; haply thou mayst inform 
Something to save thy life. 

Parolles. O, let me live ! 

And all the secrets of our camp I '11 show, 
Their force, their purposes; nay, I '11 speak that 8o 

Which you will wonder at. 

I Soldier. But wilt thou faithfully? 

Fa?'olles. If I do not, damn me. 

I Soldier. Acordo linta. 

Come on ; thou art granted space. 

\^Exit, with Parolles guarded. A short alarum withift. 

1 Lord. Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother. 
We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled 
Till we do hear from them. 

2 Soldier. Captain, I will. 

1 Lord. A' will betray us all unto ourselves; 
Inform on that. 

2 Soldier. So I will, sir. 

I Lord. Till then I '11 keep him dark and safely lock'd. 

[Exeunt 

Scene II. Florence. The Widow's LLouse. 
Enter Bertram and Diana. 

Bertram. They told me that your name was Fontibell. 

Diana. No, my good lord, Diana. 

Bertram. Titled goddess; 

And worth it, with addition ! But, fair soul. 
In your fine frame hath love no quality? 
If the quick fire of youth light not your mind, 
You are no maiden, but a monument. 



ACT IV. SCENE 11. 



97 



When you are dead, you should be such a one 

As you are now, for you are cold and stern; 

And now you should be as your mother was 

When your sweet self was got. lo 

Diana. She then was honest. 

Bertrai?i. So should you be. 

Diana. No ! 

My mother did but duty, — such, my lord, 
As you owe to your wife. 

Bertram. No more o' that! 

I prithee, do not strive against my vows. 
I was compeird to her; but I love thee 
By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever 
Do thee all rights of service. 

Diana. Ay, so you serve us 

Till we serve you; but when you have our roses, 
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves 
And mock us with our bareness. 

Bertram. How have I sworn \ 20 

Diana. 'T is not the many oaths that makes the truth. 
But the plain single vow that is vow'd true. 
What is not holy, that we swear not by, 
But take the High'st to witness; then, pray you, tell me, 
If I should swear by God's great attributes 
I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths, 
When I did love you ill? This has no holding, 
To swear by him whom I protest to love, 
That I will work against him; therefore your oarns 
Are words and poor conditions, but unseal'd, — 30 

At least in my opinion. 

Bertram. Change it, change it; 

Be not so holy-cruel : love is holy, 
And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts 
That you do charge men with. Stand no more off, 
But give thyself unto my sick desires, 

G 



98 ALL 'S WELL TLIAT ENDS WELL. 

Who then recover; say thou art mine, and ever 
My love as it begins shall so persever. 

Diana. I see that men make ropes in such a scarre 
That we '11 forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. 

Bertra7?t. I '11 lend it thee, my dear, but have no power 4° 
To give it from me. 

Diana. Will you not, my lord ? 

Bertrain. It is an honour longing to our house. 
Bequeathed down from many ancestors; 
Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world 
In me to lose. 

Diana. Mine honour's such a ring. 

My chastity 's the jewel of our house. 
Bequeathed down from many ancestors; 
Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world 
In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom 
Brings in the champion Honour on my part, so 

Against your vain assault. 

Bertram. Here, take my ring; 

My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine. 
And I '11 be bid by thee. 

Diana. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber- 
window; 
I '11 order take my mother shall not hear. 
Now will I charge you in the band of truth, 
When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed. 
Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me. 
My reasons are most strong, and you shall know them 
When back again this ring shall be deliver'd; 6o 

And on your finger in the night I '11 put 
Another ring, that what in time proceeds 
May token to the future our past deeds. 
Adieu, till then ; then, fail not. You have won 
A wife of me, though there my hope be done. 

Bertram. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee. 

\Exit 



ACT 1^'. SCENE III. 99 

Diana. For which live long to thank both heaven and me ! 
You may so in the end. — 
My mother told me just how he would woo, 
As if she sat in 's heart; she says all men 7a 

Have the like oaths. He has sworn to marry me 
When his wife 's dead, therefore I '11 lie with him 
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid. 
Marry that will, I live and die a maid; 
Only in this disguise I think 't no sin 
To cozen him that would unjustly win. [^Exit. 

Scene HI. The Florentine Camp. 
Enter the two French Lords and two or three Soldiers. 

1 Lord. You have not given him his mother's letter? 

2 Lord. I have delivered it an hour since; there is some- 
thing in 't that stings his nature, for on the reading it he 
changed almost into another man. 

1 Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for 
shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady. 

2 Lord. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting dis- 
pleasure of the king, who had even tuned his bounty to sing 
happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let 
it dwell darkly with you. 10 

1 Lord. When you have spoken it, 't is dead, and I am the 
grave of it. 

2 Lord. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in 
Florence, of a most chaste renown; and this night he fleshes 
his will in the spoil of her honour : he hath given her his 
monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste 
composition. 

1 Lord. Now, God delay our rebellion ! as we are our- 
selves, what things are we ! 19 

2 Lord. Merely our own traitors. And as in the common 
course of all treasons we still see them reveal themselves, 



TOO ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

till they attain to their abhorred ends, so he that in this ac- 
tion contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream 
o'erflows himself. 

1 Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters 
of our unlawful intents ? We shall not then have his com- 
pany to-night ? 

2 Lord. Not till after midnight, for he is dieted to his hour. 

1 Lord. That approaches apace; I would gladly have him 
see his company anatomized, that he might take a measure 
of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this 
counterfeit. 32 

2 Lord. We will not meddle with him till he come, for his 
presence must be the whip of the other. 

1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these wars .'* 

2 Lord. I hear there is an overture of peace. 

1 Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. 

2 Lord. What will Count Rousillon do then .'' will he travel 
higher, or return again into France t 

1 Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether 
of his council. 41 

2 Lord. Let it be forbid, sir! so should I be a great deal 
of his act. 

1 Lord. Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his 
house : her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand, 
which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she 
accomplished; and, there residing, the tenderness of her nat- 
ure became as a prey to her grief, in fine, made a groan of 
her last breath, and now she sings in heaven. 

2 Lord. How is this justified ? 50 

1 Lord. The stronger part of it by her own letters, which 
makes her story true, even to the point of her death; her 
death itself, which could not be her office to say is come, was 
faithfully confirmed by the rector of the place. 

2 Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence ? 

I Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from 
point, to the full arming of the verity. 



ACT IV. SCENE III. loi 

2 Lord. I am heartily sorry tl>at he '11 be glad of this. 

1 Lord. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of 
our losses ! 60 

2 Lord. And how mightily some other times we drown our 
gain in tears ! The great dignity that his valour hath here 
acquired for him shall at home be encountered with a shame 
as ample. 

1 Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good 
and ill together : our virtues would be proud, if our laults 
whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they 
were not cherished by our virtues. — 

Enter a Servant. 
How now ! where 's your master t 69 

Servant. He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he 
hath taken a solemn leave ; his lordship will next morning 
for France. The duke hath offered him letters of commen- 
dations to the king. 

2 Lord. They shall be no more than needful there, if they 
were more than they can commend. 

1 Lord. They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. 
Here 's his lordship now. — 

Enter Bertram. 
How now, my lord ! is 't not after midnight? 78 

Bertram. I have to-night dispatched sixteen businesses, a 
month's length apiece, by an abstract of success. I have 
congied with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; bur- 
ied a wife, mourned for her; writ to my lady mother I am 
returning; entertained my convoy; and between these main 
parcels of dispatch effected many nicer needs: the last was 
the greatest, but that I have not ended yet. 

2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and this morn- 
ing your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship. 

Bertram. I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to 



I02 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between 
the fool and the soldier ? Come, bring forth this counterfeit 
module has deceived me, like a double-meaning prophesier. 

2 Lord. Bring him forth; has sat i' the stocks all night, 
poor gallant knave. \Exeunt Soldios. 

Bertrmn. No matter; his heels have deserved it, in usurp- 
ing his spurs so long. How does he carry himself .-^ 95 

2 Lord. I have told your lordship already, the stocks carry 
him. But to answer you as you would be understood : he 
weeps like a wench that had shed her milk; he hath con- 
fessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, 
from the time of his remembrance to this very instant disas- 
ter of his setting i' the stocks; and what think you he hath 
confessed ? 102 

Bertram. Nothing of me, has a' ? 

2 Lord. His confession is taken, and it shall be read to 
his face; if your lordship be in 't, as I believe you are, you 
must have the patience to hear it. 

Enter Soldiers, with Parolles. 

Bertram. A plague upon him ! muffled ! he can say noth- 
ing of me ; hush, hush ! 

I Lord. Hoodman comes ! Portotartarosa. 

I Soldier. He calls for the tortures; what will you say with- 
out 'em ? HI 

Parolles. I will confess what I know without constraint; if 
ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. 

I Soldier. Bosko chimurcho. 

I Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco. 

I Soldier. You are a merciful general. — Our general bids 
you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. 

Parolles. And truly, as I hope to live. 

I Soldier. [Reads] *■ First demand of him how many horse 
the duke is strong.^ What say you to that ? 120 

Parolles. Five or six thousand, but very weak and unser- 



ACT IV. SCENE III. 103 

viceable; the troops are all scattered, and the commanders 
very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I 
hope to live. 

I Soldier. Shall I set down your answer so ? 

Parolles. Do; I '11 take the sacrament on 't, how and which 
way you will. 

Bertram. All's oneto him. What a past-saving slave is this! 

1 Lord. You 're deceived, my lord; this is Monsieur Pa- 
rolles, the gallant militarist — that was his own phrase — that 
had the whole theoric of war in the knot of his scarf, and the 
practice in the chape of his dagger. 132 

2 Lord. I will never trust a man again for keeping his 
sword clean, nor believe he can have every thing in him by 
wearing his apparel neatly. 

I Soldier. Well, that 's set down. 

Parolles. Five or six thousand horse, I said, — I will say 
true, — or thereabouts, set down, for I '11 speak truth. 

I Lord. He 's very near the truth in this. 

Bertram. But I con him no thanks for 't, in the nature he 
delivers it. 141 

Parolles. Poor rogues, I pray you, say. 

I Soldier. Well, that 's set down. 

Parolles. I humbly thank you, sir; a truth 's a truth, the 
rogues are marvellous poor. 

I Soldier. [Reads] ^Demand of him, of what strength they 
are afoot.'' What say you to that ? 

Parolles. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present 
hour, I will tell true. Let me see : Spurio, a hundred and 
fifty; Sebastian, so many; Corambus, so many; Jaques, so 
many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred 
fifty each; mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, 
two hundred fifty each : so that the muster-file, rotten and 
sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; 
half of the which dare not shake the snow from off their 
cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces. 



I04 ^J-L 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

Bertram. What shall be done to him ? 

I Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of 
him my condition, and what credit I have with the duke, is* 

I Soldier. Well, that 's set down. [Reads] ' You shall de- 
mand of him., whether one Captain Diimain be V the camp., a 
Fre?ichma7i ; what his reputation is 7i>ith the duke ; what his 
valour., honesty, and expertness in wars ; or whether he thinks 
it were not possible., with well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt 
him to a revolt.^ What say you to this? what do you know 
of it? 

Parolles. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of 
the inter'gatories ; demand them singly. 

I Soldier. Do you know this Captain Dumain ? 

Parolles. I know him : a' was a botcher's prentice in Paris, 
from whence he was whipped. 171 

Bertram. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands \ though I 
know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. 

I Soldier. Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence's 
camp ? 

Parolles. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. 

I Lord. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of your 
lordship anon. 

I Soldier. What is his reputation with the duke ? 179 

Parolles. The duke knows him for no other but a poor of- 
ficer of mine, and writ to me this other day to turn him out 
o' the band. I think I have his letter in my pocket. 

I Soldier. Marry, we '11 search. 

Parolles. In good sadness, I do not know; either it is 
there, or it is upon a file with the duke's other letters in my 
tent. 

I Soldier. Here 't is ; here 's a paper : shall I read it to 
you ? 

Parolles. I do not know if it be it or no. 

Bertram. Our interpreter does it well. 190 

I Lord. Excellently. 



ACT IV. SCENE III 



^05 



I Soldier. [Reads] ^ Dian^ the count V a fool, and full of 
gold,'— 

Farolles. That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an ad- 
vertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to 
take heed of the allurement of one Count Rousillon, a foolish 
idle boy, but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it 
up again. 

I Soldier. Nay, I '11 read it first, by your favour. 199 

Farolles. My meaning in 't, I protest, was very honest in 
the behalf of the maid; for I knew the young count to be a 
dangerous and lascivious boy. 

Bertraui. Damnable both-sides rogue ! 

1 Soldier. [Reads] ' Whe?i he swears oaths, bid him drop 

gold, and take it ; 
After he scores, he 7iever pays the score : 
Half 7V 071 is match well made ; match, and well make it; 

He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before ; 
And say a soldier, Diafi, told thee this. 
Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss : 
For count of this, the count 'j" a fool, I knoiv it, 210 

Who pays before, but 7iot whe7i he does owe it. 
-Thine, as he vowed to thee in thine ear, 

Parolles.' 
Bertram. He shall be whipped through the army with this 
rhyme in 's forehead. 

2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold lin- 
guist and the armipotent soldier. 

Be7-tram. I could endure any thing before but a cat, and 
now he 's a cat to me. 

I Soldier. I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall 
be fain to hang you. 22c 

Farolles. My life, sir, in any case; not that I am afraid to 
die, but that, my offences being many, I would repent out 
the remainder of nature. Let me live, sir, in a dungeon, J' 
the stocks, or any where, so I may live. 



Io6 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

I Soldier. We '11 see what may be done, so you confess 
freely ; therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain. You 
have answered to his reputation with the duke and to his 
valour; what is his honesty? 228 

Parolles. He will steal, sir, an ^gg out of a cloister ; for 
rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus. He professes not 
keeping of oaths; in breaking 'em he is stronger than Her- 
cules. He will lie, sir, with such volubility, that you would 
think truth were a fool. Drunkenness is his best virtue, for 
he will be swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, 
save to his bed-clothes about him ; but they know his condi- 
tions and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, 
sir, of his honesty : he has every thing that an honest man 
should not have ; what an honest man should have, he has 
nothing. 

I Lord. I begin to love him for this. 240 

Bertram. For this description of thine honesty ? A pox 
upon him for me, he 's more and more a cat. 

I Soldier. What say you to his expertness in war ? 

Parolles. Faith, sir, has led the drum before the English 
tragedians: to belie him, I will not, and more of his soldier- 
ship I know not; except, in that country he had the honour 
to be the officer at a place there called Mile-end, to instruct 
for the doubling of files. I would do the man what honour 
I can, but of this I am not certain. 

I Lord. He hath out-villained villany so far that the rarity 
redeems him. 251 

Bertram. A pox on him, he 's a cat still. 

I Soldier. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not 
to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. 

Parolles. Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple 
of his salvation, the inheritance of it, and cut the entail from 
all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. 

1 Soldier. What 's his brother, the other Captain Dumain ? 

2 Lord. Why does he ask him of me ? 



ACT IV. SCENE III. 



107 



I Soldier. What 's he ? 260 

Farolles. E'en a crow o' the same nest; not altogether so 
great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. 
He excels his brother for a coward, yet his brother is reputed 
one of the best that is. In a retreat he outruns any lackey ; 
marry, in coming on he has the cramp. 

I Soldier. If your life be saved, will you undertake to be- 
tray the Florentine ? 

Farolles. Ay, and the captain of his horse. Count Rousillon. 

I Soldier. I '11 whisper with the general, and know his 
pleasure. 270 

Farolles. [Aside] I '11 no more drumming; a plague of all 
drums ! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the 
supposition of that lascivious young boy the count, have I 
run into this danger. Yet who would have suspected an 
ambush where I was taken ? 

I Soldier. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die ; the 
general says, you that have so traitorously discovered the 
secrets of your army and made such pestiferous reports of 
men very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use ; 
therefore you must die. — Come, headsman, off with his 
head. 281 

Farolles. O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death ! 

1 Soldier. That shall you, and take your leave of all your 
friends. [ Unblinding him. 
So, look about you ; know you any here ? 

Bertram. Good morrow, noble captain. 

2 Lord. God bless you. Captain Farolles. 

1 Lord. God save you, noble captain. 

2 Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord La- 
feu ? I am for France. 290 

I Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy of the son- 
net you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon ? an 
I were not a very coward, I 'd compel it of you ; but fare you 
well. \Exeimt Bertram atid Lords. 



lo8 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

I Soldier. You are undone, captain, all but your scarf; that 
has a knot on 't yet. 

Parolles. Who cannot be crushed with a plot? 

I Soldier. If you could find out a country where but women 
were that had received so much shame, you might begin an 
impudent nation. Fare ye well, sir. I am for France too; 
we shall speak of you there. \^Exii:., with Soldiers. 

Parolles. Yet am I thankful ; if my heart were great, 302 
'T would burst at this. Captain I '11 be no more, 
But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft 
As captain shall ; simply the thing I am 
Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart. 
Let him fear this, for it will come to pass 
That every braggart shall be found an ass. 
Rust, sword ! cool, blushes ! and, Parolles, live 
Safest in shame ! being fool'd, by foolery thrive ! 310 

There 's place and means for every man alive. 
I '11 after them. \Exit. 

Scene IV. Florence. The Widow's House. 
Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana. 
Hekfia. That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd 

you, 

One of the greatest in the Christian world 

Shall be my surety; fore whose throne 't is needful, 

Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel. 

Time was, I did him a desired office. 

Dear almost as his life; which gratitude 

Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth, 

And answer, thanks. I duly am inform'd 

His grace is at Marseilles, to which place 

We have convenient convoy. You must know, 10 

I am supposed dead : the army breaking, 

My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding, 



ACT IV. SCENE V. 109 

And by the leave of my good lord the king, 
We '11 be before our welcome. 

Widow. Gentle madam, 

You never had a servant to whose trust 
Your business was more welcome. 

Helena. Nor you, mistress, 

Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour 
To recompense your love. Doubt not but heaven 
Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower. 
As it hath fated her to be my motive 20 

And helper to a husband. But, O strange men ! 
That can such sweet use make of what they hate. 
When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts 
Defiles the pitchy night; so lust doth play 
With what it loathes for that which is away. 
But more of this hereafter. — You, Diana, 
Under my poor instructions yet must suffer 
Something in my behalf. 

Dia?ta. Let death and honesty 

Go with your impositions, I am yours 
Upon your will to suffer. 

Helena. Yet, I pray you ; ,0 

But with the word the time will bring on summer. 
When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns, 
And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; 
Our wagon is prepar'd, and time revives us. 
All 's well that ends well: still the fine 's the crown ; 
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. \^Exeunt. 

Scene V. Rousillon. The Countess's Palace. 

Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown. 

Lafeu. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta 
fellow there, whose villanous saffron would have made all 
ihe unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour; 



no ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour, and your 
son here at home, more advanced by the king than by that 
red-tailed humble-bee I speak of. 

Countess. I would I had not known him ! it was tne death 
of the most virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praise 
for creating. If she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me 
the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a 
more rooted love. n 

Lafeu. 'T was a good lady, 't was a good lady ; we may 
pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb. 

Clown. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the 
salad, or, rather, the herb of grace. 

Lafeu. They are not herbs, you knave ; they are nose-herbs. 

Clown. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir ; I have not 
much skill in grass. 

Lafeu. Whether dost thou profess thyself, — a knave or a 

fool } 20 

Clowfi. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a 
man's. 

Lafeu. Your distinction? 

Clown. I would cozen the man of his wife and do his service. 

Lafeu. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. I 
will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool. 

Clown. At your service. 

Lafeu. No, no, no. 

Clown. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great 
a prince as you are. 30 

Lafeu. Who 's that .'* a Frenchman ? 

Clown. Faith, sir, a' has an English name ; but his fisnomy 
is more hotter in France than there. 

Lafeu. What prince is that.'' 

Clown. The black prince, sir ; alias, the prince of darkness ; 
alias, the devil. 

Lafeu. Hold thee, there 's my purse. I give thee not this 
to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of; serve him still. 



ACT IV. SCENE V. m 

Clown. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a 
great fire ; and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. 
But, sure, he is the prince of the world ; let his nobility re- 
main in 's court. I am for the house with the narrow gate, 
which I take to be too little for pomp to enter ; some that 
humble themselves may, but the many will be too chill and 
tender, and they '11 be for the flowery way that leads to the 
broad gate and the great fire. 

Lafeu. Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee ; and I 
tell thee so before, because I would not fail out with thee. 
Go thy ways, let my horses be well looked to, without any 
tricks. 50 

Clown. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' 
tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature. YExit. 

Lafeu. A shrewd knave and an unhappy. 

Countess. So he is. My lord that 's gone made himself 
much sport out of him : by his authority he remains here, 
which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness ; and, indeed, 
he has no pace, but runs where he will. 57 

Lafeu. I like him well ; 't is not amiss. And I was about 
to tell you, since I heard of the good lady's death and that 
my lord your son was upon his return home, I moved the 
king my master to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, 
in the minority of them both, his majesty, out of a self-gracious 
remembrance, did first propose. His highness hath promised 
me to do it ; and, to stop up the displeasure he hath con- 
ceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does 
your ladyship like it? 

Countess. With very much content, my lord ; and I wish it 
happily effected. 

Lafeu. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as 
able body as when he numbered thirty ; he will be here to- 
morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence 
hath seldom failed. 72 

Countess. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him ere 1 



112 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

die. I have letters that my son will be here to-night; I shall 
beseech your lordship to remain with me till they meet to- 
gether. 

Lafeu. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might 
safely be admitted. 

Countess. You need but plead your honourable privilege. 

Lafeu. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter ; but I 
thank my God it holds yet. si 

Re-e7tter Clown, 

Clown. O madam, yonder 's my lord your son with a patch 
of velvet on 's face : whether there be a scar under 't or no, 
the velvet knows ; but 't is a goodly patch of velvet. His 
left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right 
cheek is worn bare. 

Lafeu. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery 
of honour; so belike is that. 

down. But it is your carbonadoed face. 

Lafeu. Let us go see your son, I pray you ; I long to talk 
with the young noble soldier. 91 

Clown. Faith, there 's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine 
hats and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and 
nod at every man. [^Exeunt, 





MARSEILLES. 



ACT V. 

Scene I. Marseilles. A Street. 

Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with two Attendants. 

Helena. But this exceeding posting day and night 
Must wear your spirits low; we cannot help it: 
But since you have made the days and nights as one, 
To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, 
Be bold you do so grow in my requital 
As nothing can unroot you. — In happy time! 

E7iter a Gentleman. 
This man may help me to his majesty's ear, 
If he would spend his power.— God save you, sir. 
Gentleman. And you. 

H 



114 



ALL 'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. 



Hele?ia. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. lo 

Gentleman, I have been sometimes there. 

Hele7ia. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen 
From the report that goes upon your goodness; 
And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, 
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to 
The use of your own virtues, for the which 
I shall continue thankful. 

Gejitleman. What 's your will? 

Helena. That it will please you 
To give this poor petition to the king. 

And aid me with that store of power you have 20 

To come into his presence. 

Ge?itleman. The king 's not here. 

Helena. Not here, sir! 

Gentleman. Not, indeed ; 

He hence remov'd last night and with more haste 
Than is his use. 

Widow. Lord, how we lose our pains ! 

Hekfia. All 's well that ends well yet. 
Though time seem so adverse and means unfit. — 
I do beseech you, whither is he gone? 

Gentleinan. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon, 
Whither I am going. 

Helena. I do beseech you, sir, 

Since you are like to see the king before me, 30 

Commend the paper to his gracious hand, 
Which I presume shall render you no blame. 
But rather make you thank your pains for it. 
I will come after you with what good speed 
Our means will make us means. 

Gentleman. This I '11 do for you. 

Helena. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd, 
Whate'er falls more. — We must to horse again. 
Go, go, provide. \^Exeunt. 



ACT V. SCENE II. I15 

Scene 1 1. Rousillon. Before the Countess's Palace. 
Enter Clown and Parolles. 

Parolles. Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu 
this letter. I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, 
when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes ; but I am 
now, sir, muddied in fortune's mood, and smell somewhat 
strong of her strong displeasure. 

Clown. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it 
smell so strongly as thou speakest of; I will henceforth eat 
no fish of fortune's buttering. Prithee, allow the wind. 

Parolles. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake 
but by a metaphor. 10 

Clown. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my 
nose; or against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get thee 
further. 

Parolles. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. 

Clown. Foh! prithee, stand away; a paper from fortune's 
close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes 
himself — 

E7iter Lafeu. 

Here is a purr of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat, — but not 
a musk-cat, — that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her 
displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal. Pray you, 
sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, de- 
cayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his dis- 
tress in my similes of comfort and leave him to your lord- 
ship. \^Exit. 

Parolles. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruell}^ 
scratched. 26 

Lafeu. And what would you have me to do.? 'T is too 
late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the 
knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of her- 
self is a good lady and would not have knaves thrive long 



Ii6 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

under her? There 's a quart d'ecu for you. Let the justices 
make you and fortune friends ; I am for other business. 32 

Parolles. I beseech your honour to hear me one single 
word. 

Lafeu. You beg a single penny more. Come, you shall 
ha 't ; save your word. 

Parolles. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. 

Lafeu. You beg more than a word, then. Cox my pas- 
sion ! give me your hand. How does your drum ? 

Parolles. O my good lord, you were the tirst that found me ! 

Lafeu. Was I, in sooth.? and I was the first that lost thee. 

Parolles. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, 
for you did bring me out. 43 

Lafeu. Out upon thee, knave ! dost thou put upon me at 
once both the office of God and the devil.'' One brings thee 
in grace, and the other brings thee out. \Trumpets sound.'\ 
The king 's coming ; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, in- 
quire further after me; I had talk of you last night. Though 
you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat ; go to, follow. 

Parolles. I praise God for you. \Exeutit. 

Scene III. Rousilloti. The Countess's Palace. 

Flourish. E?iter King, Countess, Lafeu, Lords, Gentlemen, 
Attendants, etc. 

King. We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem 
W^as made much poorer by it ; but your son, 
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know 
Her estimation home. 

Coimtess. 'T is past, my liege; 

And I beseech your majesty to make it 
Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth. 
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, 
O'erbears it and burns on. 

King. My honour'd lady, 



ACT V. SCENE III. 



117 



I have forgiven and forgotten all, 

Though my revenges were high bent upon him, 10 

And watch'd the time to shoot. 

Lafeii. This I must say — 

But first I beg my pardon — the young lord 
Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady 
Offence of mighty note, but to himself 
The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife 
Whose beauty did astonish the survey 
Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive. 
Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve 
Humbly call'd mistress. 

King. Praising what is lost 

Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither; 20 
We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill 
All repetition. Let him not ask our pardon; 
The nature of his great offence is dead, 
And deeper than oblivion we do bury 
The incensing relics cTf it. Let him approach, 
A stranger, no offender; and inform him 
So 't is our will he should. 

Gentleman. I shall, my liege. \Exit. 

King. What says he to your daughter? have you spoke? 

Lafeu. All that he is hath reference to your highness. 

King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent 
me 30 

That set him high in fame. 

Enter Bertram. 

Lafeu. He looks well on 't. 

King. I am not a day of season. 
For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail 
In me at once: but to the brightest beams 
Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth; 
The time is fair again. 



Il8 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

Bertram. My high-repented blames, 

Dear sovereign, pardon to me. 

King. All is whole ; 

Not one word more of the consumed time. 
Let 's take the instant by the forward top; 
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees 4© 

The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time 
Steals ere we can effect them. You remember 
The daughter of this lord.? 

Bertram. Admiringly, my liege, at first 
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart 
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue; 
Where the impression of mine eye infixing, 
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, 
Which warp'd the line of every other favour, 
Scorn'd a fair colour or express'd it stolen, 50 

Extended or contracted all proportions 
To a most hideous object. Thence it came 
That she whom all men prais'd and whom myself. 
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye 
The dust that did offend it. 

King. Well excus'd! 

That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away 
From the great compt ; but love that comes too late, 
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried. 
To the great sender turns a sour offence. 
Crying, 'That 's good that 's gone.' Our rash faults 60 

Make trivial price of serious things we have. 
Not knowing them until we know their grave. 
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust. 
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust. 
Our own love waking cries to see what 's done. 
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon. 
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her. 
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin : 



ACT V. SCENE III. 



119 



The main consents are had; and here we '11 stay 

To see our widower's second marriage-da3^ 70 

Countess. Which better than the first, O dear heaven, 
bless! 
Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse! 

Lafeii. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name 
Must be digested, give a favour from you 
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter. 
That she may quickly come. \Bertram gives a ring.'] By my 

old beard, 
And every hair that 's on 't, Helen, that 's dead, 
Was a sweet creature ; such a ring as this. 
The last that e'er I took her leave at court, 
I saw upon her finger. 

Bertram. Hers it was not. 80 

King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye. 
While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to 't. — 
This ring was mine ; and, when I gave it Helen, 
I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood 
Necessitied to help, that by this token 
I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave her 
Of what should stead her most? 

Bertram. My gracious sovereign, 

Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, 
The ring was never hers. 

Countess. Son, on my life, 

I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it 90 

At her life's rate. 

Lafeu. I am sure I saw her wear it. 

Bertram. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw it; 
In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, 
Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name 
Of her that threw it. Noble she was, and thought 
I stood engag'd ; but when I had subscrib'd 
To mine own fortune and inform'd her fully 



I20 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

I could not answer in that course of honour 

As she had made the overture, she ceas'd 

In heavy satisfaction and would never icx> 

Receive the ring again. 

King. Plutus himself, 

That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine. 
Hath not in nature's mystery more science 
'i'han I have in this ring; 't was mine, 't was Helen's, 
Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know 
That you are well acquainted with yourself. 
Confess 't was hers, and by what rough enforcement 
You got it from her. She call'd the saints to surety 
That she would never put it from her finger, 
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed — no 

Where you have never come — or sent it us 
Upon her great disaster. 

Bertram. She never saw it. 

Kiftg. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour, 
And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me, 
Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove 
That thou art so inhuman, — 't will not prove so; — 
And yet I know not: — thou didst hate her deadly, 
And she is dead; which nothing, but to close 
Her eyes myself, could win me to believe. 
More than to see this ring. — Take him away. — 120 

{Guards seize Bertram. 
My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, 
Shall tax my fears of little vanit}'. 
Having vainly fear'd too little. — Away with him! 
We '11 sift this matter further. 

Bertram. If you shall prove 

This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy 
Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, 
Where yet she never was. {Exit^ guarded. 

King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. 



ACT V. SCENE III. 121 

Enter a Gentleman. 

Gentleman. Gracious sovereign, 

Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not. 
Here 's a petition from a Florentine, 130 

Who hath for four or five removes come short 
To tender it herself I undertook it, 
Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech 
Of the poor suppliant, who by this I know 
Is here attending; her business looks in her 
With an importing visage, and she told me, 
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern 
Your highness with herself 

King. [Reads] ^Upon his many protestations to marry me 
ivhen his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is 
the Count Rousillon a widozver; his vows are fo?'feited to me^ 
and my hojiour V paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking 
no leave, and I folloic' him to his country for Justice. Grant 
it me, O king! in you it best lies ; otherwise a seducer flourishes, 
and a poor maid is undone. Diana Cap i let.' 

Lafeu. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fiiir, and toll for 
this; I '11 none of him. 

King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu, 
To bring forth this discovery. — Seek these suitors. 
Go speedily and bring again the count. — iso 

I am afeard the life of Helen, lady. 
Was foully snatch'd. 

Countess. Now, justice on the doers! 

Re-enter Bertram, guarded. 
King. I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you, 
And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, 
Vet you desire to marry. — 



122 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

Enter Widow and Diana. 

What woman 's that? 

Diana. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, 
Derived from the ancient Capilet. 
My suit, as I do understand, you know. 
And therefore know how far I may be pitied. 

Widow. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour 160 
Both suffer under this complaint we bring. 
And both shall cease, without your remedy. 

King. Come hither, count ; do you know these women ? 

Bertratn. My lord, I neither can nor will deny 
But that I know them. Do they charge me further ? 

Diatia. Why do you look so strange upon your wife ? 

Bertram. She 's none of mine, my lord. 

Diana. If you snail marry, 

You give away this hand, and that is mine; 
You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine; 
You give away myself, which is known mine; 170 

For I by vow am so embodied yours, 
That she which marries you must marry me, 
Either both or none. 

Lafeu. Your reputation comes too short for my daugh- 
ter; you are no husband for her. 

Bertram. My lord, this is a fond and desperate creat- 
ure. 
Whom sometime I have laugh'd with ; let your highness 
Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour 
Than for to think that I would sink it here. 

King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend 
Till your deeds gain them ; fairer prove your honour i8i 

Than in my thought it lies! 

Diana. Good my lord. 

Ask him upon his oath, if he does think 
He had not my virginity. 



ACT V. SCENE III, 123 

King. What say'st thou to her ? 

Bertf-am. She 's impudent, my lord, 

And was a common gamester to the camp. 

Diana. He does me wrong, my lord ; if I were so. 
He might have bought me at a common price. 
Do not believe him. O, behold this ring, 
Whose high respect and rich validity 190 

Did lack a parallel ; yet for all that 
He gave it to a commoner o' the camp, 
If I be one. 

Coufitess. He blushes, and 't is it. 
Of six preceding ancestors, that gem. 
Conferral by testament to the sequent issue, 
Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife ; 
That ring 's a thousand proofs. 

King. * Methought you said 

You saw one here in court could witness it. 

Diana. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce 
So bad an instrument ; his name 's Parolles. 200 

Lafeu. I saw the man to-day, if man he be. 

King. Find him, and bring him hither. 

S^Exit an Attendafit. 

Bertram. What of him .? 

He 's quoted for a most perfidious slave. 
With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd. 
Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. 
Am I or that or this for what he '11 utter, 
That will speak any thing? 

King. She hath that ring of yours. 

Bertram. I think she has; certain it is I lik'd her. 
And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth. 
She knew her distance and did angle for me, 210 

Madding my eagerness with her restraint, 
As all impediments in fancy's course 
Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, 



124 ^^^ '-^ WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace, 
Subdued me to her rate : she got the ring, 
And I had that which any inferior might 
At market-price have bought. 

Diana. I must be patient ; 

You, that have turn'd off a first so noble wife, 
May justly diet me. I pray you yet — 

Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband — 220 

Send for your ring, I will return it home, 
And give me mine again. 

Bertram. I have it not. 

King. What ring was yours, I pray you ? 

Diana. Sir, much like 

The same upon your finger. 

King. Know you this ring? this ring was his of late. 

Diana. And this was it I gave him, being abed. 

King. The story then goes false, you threw it him 
Out of a casement. 

Diana. I have spoke the truth. 

Enter Parolles. 

Bertram. My lord, I do confess the ring was hers. 

King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts you. — 
Is this the man you speak of.'' 

Diana. Ay, my lord. 231 

King. Tell me, sirrah, — but tell me true, I charge you, 
Not fearing the displeasure of your master, 
Which on your just proceeding I '11 keep off, — 
By him and by this woman here what know you .^ 

FaroUes. So please your majest}', my master hath been an 
honourable gentleman ; tricks he hath had in him, which 
gentlemen have. 

King. Come, come, to the purpose; did he love this woman.? 

Parolles. Faith, sir, he did love her; but how? 240 

King. How, I pray you ? 



ACT V. SCENE III. 



125 



Parolks. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a 
woman. 

King. How is that ? 

Parolks. He loved her, sir, and loved her not. 

King. As thou art a knave, and no knave. — What an 
equivocal companion is this ! 

Parolles. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's com- 
mand. 

Lafeu. He 's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty or- 
ator. 251 

Diana. Do you know he promised me marriage? 

Parolles. Faith, I know more than I '11 speak. 

King. But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest.'' 

Parolles. Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between 
them, as I said ; but more than that, he loved her, — for indeed 
he was mad for her, and talked of Satan and of Limbo and 
of Furies and I know not what: yet I was in that credit 
with them at that time that I knew of their going to bed, 
and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things 
which would derive me ill-will to speak of; therefore I will 
not speak what I know. - 262 

King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say 
they are married: but thou art too line in thy evidence; 
therefore stand aside. — 
This ring, you say, was yours ? 

Diana. Ay, my good lord. 

King. Where did you buy it.^ or who gave it you ? 

Diana. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. 

King. Who lent it you .'' 

Diana. It was not lent me neither. 

King. Where did you find it, then ? 

Dia?ia. I found it not. 270 

King. If it were yours by none of all these ways, 
How could you give it him 1 

Diana. I never gave it him. 



126 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

Lafeu. This woman 's an easy glove, my lord; she goes 
off and on at pleasure. 

King. This ring was mine; I gave it his first wife. 

Dia/ia. It might be yours or hers, for aught I know. 

King. Take her away, I do not like her now; 
To prison with her: and away with him. — 
Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, 
Thou diest within this hour. 

Diana. I '11 never tell you. 280 

King. Take her away. 

Diana. I '11 put in bail, my liege. 

King. I think thee now some common customer. 

Diana, By Jove, if ever I knew man, 't was you. 

King. Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this while ? 

Diana. Because he 's guilty, and he is not guilty. 
He knows I am no maid, and he '11 swear to 't; 
I '11 swear I am a maid, and he knows not. 
Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life ; 
I am either maid, or else this old man's wife. 

King. She does abuse our ears ; to prison with her. 290 

Diana. Good mother, fetch my bail. — Stay, royal sir; 

\^Exit Widow. 
The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for. 
And he shall surety me. But for this lord. 
Who hath abus'd me, as he knows himself. 
Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him. 
He knows himself my bed he hath defil'd ; 
And at that time he got his wife with child. 
So there 's my riddle : one that 's dead is quick ; 
And now behold the meaning. 

Re-enter Widow, with Helena. 

King. Is there no exorcist 

Beguiles the truer ofBce of mine eyes? 300 

Is 't real that I see ? 



ACT V. SCENE II L 127 

Helena. No, my good lord ; 

'T is but the shadow of a wife you see, 
The name and not the thing. 

Bertram. Both, both. O, pardon ! 

Helena. O my good lord, when I was like this maid, 
I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring, 
And, look you, here 's your letter; this it says : 
' When from my finger you can get this ring. 
And are by me with child,' etc. — This is done ; 
Will you be mine, now you are doubly won ? 

Bertram. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, 
I '11 love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. s'l 

Helena. If it appear not plain and prove untrue. 
Deadly divorce step between me and you ! — 

my dear mother, do I see you living? 

Lafeu. Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon. — 
\To Farolles] Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher. So, 

1 thank thee : wait on me home, I' 11 make sport with thee. 
Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones. 

Ki7tg. Let us from point to point this story know. 
To make the even truth in pleasure flow. — 320 

[To Diana'] If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower, 
Choose thou thy husband, and I '11 pay thy dower; 
For I can guess that by thy honest aid 
Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid. — 
Of that and all the progress, more and less, 
Resolvedly more leisure shall express. 
All yet seems well; and if it end so meet, 
'I'he bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. — [Flourish. 
The king 's a beggar, now the play is done : 
All is well ended, if this suit be won, 330 

That you express content; which we will pay, 
With strife to please you, day exceeding day. 
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; 
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. [Exeiint. 



NOTES 



ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES. 

Abbott (or Gr.), Abbott's Shakespearian Grammar (third edition). 
A. S., Anglo-Saxon. 

A. v., Authorized Version of the Bible (1611). 

B. and F., Beaumont and Fletcher. 
B. J., Ben Jonson. 

Camb. ed., " Cambridge edition" of Shakespeare, edited by Clark and Wright 

Cf. {confer), compare. 

Clarke, " Cassell's Illustrated Shakespeare," edited by Charles and Mary Cowden 
Clarke (London, n. d.). 

Coll., Collier (second edition). 

Coll. MS., Manuscript Corrections of Second Folio, edited by Collier. 

D., Dyce (second edition). 

H., Hudson (first edition). 

Halliwell, J. O. Halliwell (folio ed. of Shakespeare). 

Id. {idefn), the same. 

K., Knight (second edition). 

Nares, Glossary, edited by Halliwell and Wright (London, 1859). 

Prol., Prologue. 

S.', Shakespeare. 

Schmidt, A. Schmidt's Shakespeare-Lexicott (Berlin, 1874). 

Sr., Singer. 

St., Staunton. 

I'heo., Theobald. 

v., Verplanck. 

W., R. Grant White. , , ^ r o, z. . 

Walker, Wm. Sidney Walker's Critical Examijiation of the Text of Shakespeare 
(Loirdon, i860). 

Warb., Warburton. 

Wb., Webster's Dictionary (revised quarto edition of 1879). 

Wore, Worcester's Dictionary (quarto edition). 

The abbreviations of the names of Shakespeare's Plays will be readily understood ; as 
T. N. for Tnvelfth Night, Cor. for Coriola?ms, 3 Hen. VI. for The Third Part of King 
Henry the Sixth, etc. P. P. refers to The Passionate Pilgrim ; V. and A . to Venus 
and Adonis; L. C. to Lover's Complaint; and Sonn. to the Sonnets. 

When the abbreviation of the name of a play is followed by a reference to page, 
Rolfe's edition of the play is meant. r u u r>i u .. ^ 

The numbers of the lines (except for the present play) are those of the Globe ed. 
or of the "Acme" reprint of that ed. 



NOTES. 




COURT OF countess's PALACE— PAROLLES AND CLOWN (v. 2). 

ACT I. 

fi^Prf^"^'"^ PERSON/E.-Not given in the folio (see 0th. p. 1^:5). As 
W. XK ' "^u-^ ^'^P'Y' '" ^- ^- ^' ^^'^ ^°"«^ the Camb. ed iniivincTit 
cu s inThe%r"'^^ '" '^" °^^u^l^- ^^ " ^^^^'^^'' Violenta's nlme oc- 
anv thW ^^S^V^-'-^^^t'o^/t the beginning of iii. 5, but she does not say 

^ Ihat'sf^ne'stu'irbe gt^nri;^^^^ '''^' ^^'^'^ ^'^-'^ ^^^ ^1--^' 



132 



NOTES. 



In the folios Roiisilloti is generally spelt " Rossillion," and Helena in 
the stage-directions " Hellen." 

Scene I. — 5. I71 ward. " Under his particular care, as my guardian, 
till I come of age. It is now almost forgotten in England that the heirs 
of great fortunes were the king's wards. Whether the same practice 
prevailed in France it is of no great use to inquire, for S. gives to all na- 
tions the manners of England" (Johnson). According to other authori- 
ties, the custom did prevail in Normandy, but not in other parts of France. 

9. Lac/:. Changed by Theo. (at the suggestion of Warb.) to "slack." 
Clarke paraphrases the passage thus: "Your worthiness would stir it 
(that is, the king's ' virtue,' favour, or kindness) up where it did not exist, 
rather than be without it where it exists in such abundance." 

13. Persecuted. "Not very intelligibly used" (Schmidt); but perhaps 
= followed up (the original sense). S. has the verb nowhere else. 

17. Passage. Any thing that passes, or occurs. Cf. Ham. iv. 7. 113 : 
" passages of experience," etc. See also T. N. p. 149. 

" The Countess's parenthetical exclamation concisely pictures all the 
calamitous circumstances involved in that one word had — the lost par- 
ent, the young girl's orphanhood, her own dead husband, her son's past 
dwelling with her at home, and his imminent departure" (Clarke). 

30. A fistula. "A sinuous ulcer" (Schmidt) ; the only instance of the 
word in S. Paynter's translation of Boccaccio's story (see p. 1 1 above) 
says : " She heard by report that the P^rench King had a swelling upon 
his breast, which by reason of ill cure, was growen into a fistula." 

35. Overlooking. Supervision, care. S. does not use the word in the 
modern sense of neglecting. 

37. Virtuous qualities. "Qualities of good breeding and erudition (in 
the same sense that the Italians say qualita virtuosa) and not moral ones. 
On this account it is, she says, that, in a7i ill tfiiiid, these virtuous qualities 
^xt virtues a7id traitoi's too ; that is, the advantages of education enabte an 
ill mind to go further in wickedness than it could have done without 
them "(Warb.). 

39. In her they are the better, etc. " Her virtues are the better for their 
simpleness ; that is, her excellencies are the better because they are art- 
less and open, without fraud, without design. The learned commentator 
[Warb.] has well explained ^'/r/z/^'j', but has not, I think, reached the force 
of the word traitors, and therefore has not shown the full extent of Shake- 
speare's masterly observation. Estimable and useful qualities, joined 
with an evil disposition, give that disposition power over others, who, by 
admiring the virtue, are betrayed to the malevolence. The Tatler, men- 
tioning the sharpers of his time, observes that some of them are men of 
such elegance and knowledge that 'a young man who falls into their way 
is betrayed as much by his judgment as his passions'" (Johnson). In 
A. Y. L. \\. 3. 13, as Malone remarks, '■'■virtues are called traitors on a 
very different ground." Clarke explains the passage thus : " We com- 
mend such excellencies with regret that they should be so good in them- 
selves, yet treacherous in their combination and effects ; and then the 
Countess goes on to say that Helena's merits are the better for their pure 



ACT I. SCENE I. ,3^ 

source, since she derives her integrity of nature from her father, and 
achieves her excellence herself." 
42, Season. For the " culinary " metaphor, as Malone calls it, cf. T. N. 

'• ^' 7P • "AH this to season 

A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh 
And lasting in her remembrance ;" 

and see also Mtich Ado, p. 155. Pye calls it "a coarse and vulgar meta- 
phor " (as Blair would probably have done) ; but K. cites, as divine au- 
thority for it, Matt. v. 13. 

44. Livelihood. Liveliness, animation ; the only sense in S. See 
Rich. III. p. 214. 

46. Than to have. " Than have it " (Capell's reading). The folios 
read "then to haue — ," but it need not be considered an unfinished 
speech. See Gr. 415, 416. Malone compares Sonn. 58. i ; 

"That god forbid that made me first your slave, 
I sliouid in thought control your times of pleasure, 
Or at your hand the account of hours to crave." 

47. I do affect, etc. " In these, the first words she utters, Helena uses 
the veiled language which marks her diction throughout this opening 
scene. She is brooding over her secret thoughts, letting them but so in-- 
distinctly be seen as to be undivined by those around her, and only so far 
perceived by the reader as to enable him to gather what the dramatist 
intends to indicate. The sorrow Helena affects is that for her father's 
death ; the sorrow she says I have is for the inaus])iciousness of her love, 
and for Bertram's approaching departure " (Clarke). 

50. If the living, etc. "It the living be an enemy to grief, the excess 
soon makes it mortal ; that is, if the living do not indulge grief, grief de- 
stroys itself by its own excess" (Johnson). Theo. adopts the conjecture 
of Warb., "be not enemy," making w^r/rt/ = deadly, fatal. Malone, in 
support of Johnson's explanation, cites W. T. v. 3. 51 : 



"Scarce any joy 
Did ever so long live ; no sorrow 
But kill'd itself much sooner ;"' 



and R. and J. ii. 6. 9 



"These violent delights have violent ends. 
And in their triumph die." 

Tieck (followed by many editors) assigns this speech to Helena ; and it 
must be admitted that it is in the veiled and enigmatical style she uses 
here. See on 47 above. But, on the other hand, it seems a natural an- 
tithetical comment for any one to make on Lafeu's antithetical speech, 
and therefore may be left to the Countess, as in the folio. We think 
there is also some force in White's objection that "if this speech be as- 
signed to Helena, Lafeu's question, excited by its quibbling nature, is not 
put until after Bertram has turned the attention of the audience by ad- 
dressing another person, to wit, the Countess, whom he asks for her 
blessing ; in which case Lafeu's query is presuming and discourteous, 
and the dramatic effect awkward. But if the Countess be the last speak, 
er, this is avoided." 



134 NOTES. 

57. Love all., etc. Cf. the advice of Polonius to Laertes, in Ham. i, 3, 
58 fol. See p. 31 above. 

58. Be able, etc. *' Rather be able to revenge yourself on your enemy 
in ability, than in the use of that ability; have it in your power to re- 
venge, but shew Godlike in not using that power" (Dodd). 

60. Check' d. Chided, rebuked ; as in J. C. iv. 3. 97 : " Check'd like a 
bondman," etc. 

61. Tax'd. Censured, reproached; as in v. 3. 204 below. See also 
A. Y. L. p. 142, note on Taxation. 

62. That thee may fui-nish. "That may help thee with more and bet- 
ter qualifications " (Johnson). 

On pluck as a favourite word with S., see Rich III. p. 199, or Lear, 
p. 238. 

64. Unseasoii' d. Inexperienced. Elsewhere in S. it is = unseasonable. 
See 2 Hen. IV. p. 175. 

68. The best wishes, etc. *' That is, may you be mistress of your wishes, 
and have power to bring them to effect " (Johnson). 

69. Comfortable. In an active sense ; as in Lear, i. 4. 328 : 

" A daughter, 
Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable." 

See also 7?. rtwc/ y. p. 216. Gr. 3. 

70. My mother, your j?iistress. As Clarke notes, this little touch 
"thoroughly serves to convey the impression Bertram has of Helena, 
that she is a dependant in his family ; to convey the effect of his indifTer- 
ence to her himself, and his unconsciousness of her preference for him ; 
and to convey the smarting additional pang that must needs be struck 
into the heart of her whom he addresses in these few parting words." 

71. Hold. Maintain. Halliwell quotes Baret, Alvearie : "To hold, or 
stale up, to maintaine, to support." 

73. O, were that all ! etc. " Would that the attention to maintain the 
credit of my father (or not to act unbecoming the daughter of such a fa- 
ther) were my only solicitude ! I think not of him. My cares are all for 
Bertram " (Malone). 

74. These great tears. Johnson explained this as = "the tears which 
the King and Countess shed for him ;" but, as Mason remarks, " it does 
not appear that either of those great persons had shed tears for him, 
though they spoke of him with regret." She refers to her own big tears, 
shed for Bertram but supposed by others to be for her father, wherefore 
they do more honour to his memory than those she really shed for him. 
Coll. says : " Her meaning seems to be, that the great tears she lets fall 
grace the memory oi Bertram more than those she sheds for her father, 
her principal grief being for the departure of the former." 

77. Favour. Face, look ; as in 90 below. See also v, 3. 49. 

79. It were- all one, etc. See p. 24 above. 

82. In his bright radiance, etc. "I cannot be united with him and 
move in the same sphere, but must be comforted at a distance by the radi- 
ance that shoots on all sides from him " (Johnson). For the allusion to 
the Ptolemaic astronomy, see Ham. p. 254, note on Sphere. For collateral 



ACT L SCExVE /. I^q 

— indirect, cf. the only other instance in which S. uses the word, Ham. iv. 
5, 206 : " If by direct or by collateral hand," etc. 

88. Hatuking. Hawk-like, keen. 

89. Table. The tablet or other surface on which a picture was painted. 
Cf. Soiin. 24. I : 

"Mine eye hath played the painter, and hath stell'd 
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;" 

and K. John, ii. i. 50.3 : " Drawn in the flattering table of her eye." Stee- 
vens quotes Walpole, Anec. of Painting: " Item, one table with the pict- 
ure of the Duchess of Milan . . . Item, one table with the pictures of the 
King's Majesty and Queen Jane," etc. 

Capable ^= ready to take the impression of. Cf. Temp. i. 2. 353 : 

"Which any print of goodness wilt not take, 
Being capable of all ill. " 

Cf. 148 below. 

90. Trick. Trait, peculiarity. Cf. K. John, i. i. 85 : *' He hath a trick 
of Cceur-de-lion's face." See also Lear, p. 245. 

95. Solely. Altogether (Boswell). Cf. Macb. i. 5. 71 : "solely sover- 
eign sway," etc. 

97. Virtiie''s steely bones. "Steel-boned, unyielding, and uncomplying 
virtue" (Schmidt). Take place— ^'idikQ precedence" (Clarke), or gain 
position. The Globe ed. obelizes the next line as hopelessly corrupt. 
Perhaps the idea is, that wisdom is "left out in the cold," while folly has 
more than enough. 

lor. And yon, monarch! Probably a mere sportive reply, like Portia's 
in AI. of V. ii. 9. 85, and the king's in Rich. II. v. 5. 67 ; but Steevens 
thought there might be an allusion to "Monarcho, a ridiculous fantasti- 
cal character of the age of S." Cf. L. L. L. iv. i. loi. 

103. A)ui no. " I am no more a queen than you are a monarch, or 
Monarch c; " ( M al on e ) . 

104. Are you jneditating oji virginity? The dialogue which follows in 
the folio (see Globe ed.) was very likely an interpolation, to tickle "the 
ears of the groundlings" {Ham. ii. 2. 12), as Badham {Camb. Essays, 1856, 
p. 256) regards it. The Camb. editors call it "a blot on the play." We 
strike it out with less hesitation than in some similar cases. The transi- 
tion in Helena's reply — N'ot my virginity yet. There shall, etc. — is ab- 
rupt, either on account of the clumsy way in which the interpolation was 
made, or, as W. and others think, because something has been lost be- 
fore There shall, etc. Hanmer inserted " You 're for the court," which 
Johnson calls "a fair attempt," though he would be glad to think the 
whole speech supposititious. Steevens and Henley are satisfied with it 
as it stands. Taking it as it stands, it has been a question whether There 
refers to Bertram's love or to the court. W. says: "There can be no 
doubt that the court was the subject of the speech, not only because she 
says in the last line, 'The court 's a learning place,' but because in the 
courtly society of Shakespeare's day it was the fashion for gallants to 
avow themselvea the admirers of some particular lady, and to address 
her as their phoenix, captain, humble ambition, or proud humility, or by 



136 NOTES. 

other ' fond adoptions Christendoms.' " Clarke, on the other hand, be- 
lieves " Helena's there to signify her own maiden self dedicated in the 
fulness of affection to him she loves, and consecrated evermore to him, 
even though he should never accept the gift." We are disposed to think 
that Helena meant to be understood by Parolles as referring to the court, 
but with a secret reference in her own thoughts to Bertram. " The 
speech," as Clarke well puts it, "is an impassioned rhapsody spoken 
rather to herself than to the bystander ; but veiled from his knowledge 
by riddle-like language, and given a plausible turn to, by furnishing what 
may serve as the key to its ostensible object." 

109. A phcenix, etc. Warb. believed this and the next seven lines to 
be "the nonsense of some foolish conceited player." He adds: "What 
])ut it into his head was Helen's saying, as it should be read for the 

future : 

'There shall your master have a thousand loves, 
A mother, and a mistress, and ?i friend, 
I know not what he shall — God send him well 1' 

where the fellow, finding a thousand loves spoken of, and only three reck- 
oned up, ... he would help out the number by the intermediate non- 
sense ; and because they were yet too few, he pieces out his loves with 
enmities, and makes of the whole such finished nonsense as is never heard 
out of Bedlam." But the " pretty fond adoptions Christendoms," etc. 
seems thoroughly Shakespearian ; and the only difficulty after all may 
be that something has been lost at the beginning of the passage. 

III. Traitress. The critics of the last century disputed on the ques- 
tion whether this was " a term of endearment " or not. There can be no 
doubt that epithets equally whimsical are to be found in the love poetry 
of the time. S. uses the word only here. 

115. Adoptiojis Christendoms. Adopted names. Steevens quotes an 
Epitaph in Wit's Recreations, 1640 : 

"As here a name and christendome to obtain, 
And to his Maker then return again ;" 

and Malone adds, from Nash, Four Letters Confuted: " But for an author 
to renounce his Christendome to write in his owne commendation, to re- 
fuse the name which his Godfathers and Godmothers gave him in his 
baptisme," etc. 

116. Gossips. Is sponsor for. Cf. the use of the noun ( = sponsors) in 
W. T. ii. 3. 41 (see our ed. p. 169), Hen. VIII. v. 5. 13 (see our ed. p. 205), 
etc. 

126. And show what^ etc. "And show by realities what we now must 
only think''' (Johnson). See pp. 21, 25 above. 

138. Predominant. An astrological term, like retrograde in the next 
line. See W. T. p. 157, or Macb. p. 203 (note on Is '/ nighfs predomi- 
nance, etc.).. 

145. Of a good wing. A complimentary term as applied to a falcon, 
and equivalent to "strong in flight;" but here used with a quibbling 
reference to the other sense of fight. Mason explains the passage thus : 
" If your valour will suffer you to go backward for advantage, and your 



ACT I. SCENE II. 



137 



fear for the same reason will make you run away, the composition that 
your valour and fear make in you must be a virtue that will fly far and 
swiftly." Clarke sees also an allusion to wing 2l% a part of dress (a kind 
of sleeve ornament), or "a fleer at Parolles' flighty and extravagant at- 
tire ;" but this is doubtful. 

146. Btisinesses. For the plural, cf iii. 7. 5 and iv. 3. 79 below. See, 
also Lear, p. 200. 

148. Capable of. Able to receive. Cf 89 above. 

156. Fated. Fateful, or invested with the power of controlling destiny. 

159, What pozver is it, etc. " By what influence is my love directed to 
a person so much above me ? Why am I made to discern excellence, 
and left to long after it, without the food of hope .'"' (Johnson). For 
mounts =^\\{ts, raises, cf Hen. VIII. i. i. 144: "The fire that mounts the 
liquor till 't run o'er," etc. 

161. The mightiest space, etc. '^The affections given us by nature often 
unite persons between whom fortune or accident has placed the greatest 
distance or disparity, and cause them to join like persons in the same 
situation or rank in life" (Malone). Cf T. of A. iv. 3.388: 

"That sol del' St close impossibilities, 
And mak'st them kiss." 

Mason conjectured "The mighty and base in fortune," and St. "The 
wid'st apart." Malone's interpretation is confirmed by the steward's re- 
port of Helena's soliloquy in i. 3. 103 below: ^''Forttine, she said, was no 
goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates." 

164. That weigh their pains in sense. That estimate their labour by 
sense (Johnson), or in thought (Schmidt). Clarke makes in sense = "hy 
the amount of trouble and suff"ering involved," and also "by reason and 
common-sense probability of success." 

165. IVhat hath been cannot he. That is, that what has once been done 
cannot be done again. Hanmer reads "hath not been can't be," and 
Johnson favours Mason's conjecture of " ha'n't been cannot be ;" but no 
change is called for. Helena has in mind those weak or timid folk who 
do not believe the maxim, " What man has done, man may do." 

168. And will not leave me. Clarke remarks : "The noble mixture of 
spirited firmness and womanly modesty, fine sense and true humility, 
clear sagacity and absence of conceit, passionate warmth and sensitive 
delicacy, generous love and self-diffidence, with which S. has endowed 
Helena, renders her in our eyes one of the most admirable of his female 
characters. Charles Lamb, Coleri'dge, Hazlitt, and Mrs. Jameson have 
each eloquently contributed to do homage to the beauty of Helena's 
character — a beauty the more conspicuous from the difficulties of the 
story: which demanded the combination of the utmost ardour in passion 
with the utmost purity and delicacy, the utmost moral courage and intel- 
ligence of mind with the utmost modesty of nature, to complete the con- 
formation of its heroine." 

Scene TI. — i. Senoys. Sienese, or inhabitants of Siena. Paynter calls 
them " Senois." 



138 NOTES. 

3. Braving. Defiant; as in Rich. II. ii. 3. 112 (cf. 143) : "In braving 
arms." 

8. Prejudicates. Used by S. nowhere else. 

10. Approved so. So well proved. Cf. i. 3. 218 below : " a remedy ap- 
prov'd." 

16. Sick for breathing. Longing or pining for exercise. See Ham. p. 
272 (note on Breathing time), and cf. ii. 3. 252 below. 

17. What 's he, etc. Who is he that, etc. Gr. 254 (see also 244). 

18. Rousillon. The ist folio has "Rosignoll" here, the 2d " Rosill- 
ion." 

Rousillon, or Ronssillon, was an old province of France, separated from 
Spain by the Pyrenees. Perpignan was the capital, as it is of the mod- 
ern department of Pyrenees-Orientales, which occupies nearly the same 
territory, 

20. Frank. Liberal, bountiful ; as in Sonn. 4. 4 : 

"Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend. 
And being frank she lends to those are free ;" 

Lear, iii. 4. 20 : "Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all," etc. 
Curious. Careful, scrupulous. Cf. 7". <?/"^. iv. 4. 36 : 

" For curious I cannot be with you, 
Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well." 

Cf. curiosity in Lear, i. I. 6, and see our ed. p. 165. 
25. As. For as after that, see Gr. 280. 

29. On. For the duplication of the preposition, cf. Cor. ii. i. 18 : "In 
what enormity is Marcius poor in ?" For other examples, see Gr. 407. 

30. Act. Action ; as in iv. 3. 43 below. Cf. also 2 Hen. IV. iv. 3. 126 : 
"sets it in act and use," etc. 

Repairs. Renovates, restores ; as in Cyjub. i. i. 132 : "That shouldst 
repair my youth," etc. 

35. Ere they can hide, etc. " Ere they can invest the levity of a joke 
with the dignity that belongs to a man of high and courtly breeding" 
(Clarke). The folio has a colon after honour, joining So like a coin-tier 
to what follows. The pointing in the text is due to Blackstone. John- 
son, who retains the old pointing, makes hide their levity in honour ^= 
"cover petty faults with great merit." He adds : "This is an excellent 
observation. Jocose follies and slight offences are only allowed by man- 
kind in him that overpowers them by great qualities." The next lines 
he paraphrases thus : " He was so ifke a courtier that there was in his 
dignity of manner nothing contemptuous, and in his keenness of wit 
nothing bitter. If bitterness or contemptuousness ever appeared, they 
had been awakened by some injury, not of a man below him, but of his 
equal." 

41. His hand. That is, the hand of the clock; his being = //j. Gr. 
228. 

42. He us'd, etc. " He treated as beings of a different social grade " 
(Clarke). 

43. Top. Head ; as in Lear, ii. 4. 165 : " On her ingrateful top," etc. 



ACT L SCENE IL 



139 



Af^f. Making them proud^ etc. "Making them proud of receiving such 
marks of condescension and affability from a person in so elevated a sit- 
uation, and at the same time lowering or humbling himself by stooping 
to accept of the encomiums of mean persons for that humility" (Ma- 
lone). " Giving them a better opinion of their own importance, by his 
condescending manner of behaving to them " (Mason). 

50. So in approof^ etc. " His epitaph receives by nothing such con- 
firmation and living truth as by your speech" (Schmidt). In ii. 5.2 be- 
low, "valiant approof" = approved valour. 

53. Plaiisive. Pleasing, plausible (Schmidt); as in Hatn. i. 4. 30: 
"plausive manners." Clarke explains it as "worthy of applause," 

54. He scatter'd not i?t ears, etc, K. remarks : " Of course from the 
collect in the Liturgy ; 'Grant, we beseech thee, Almighty God, that the 
words which we have heard this day with our outward ears may through 
thy grace be so grafted inwardly in our heai'ts, that they may bring forth 
the fruit of good living,' etc. 

"But it is noticeable that Sliakspere's reverential mind very seldom 
adopted the phraseology of Scripture or prayer for the mere sake of or- 
namenting his diction, as moderns perpetually do. The passage noted 
is an exception ; but such are very rare. Doubts have been entertained 
as to Shakspere's religious belief, because few or no notices of it occur 
in his works. This ought to be attributed to a tender and delicate re- 
serve about holy things, rather than to inattention or neglect. It is not 
he who talks most about Scripture, or who most frequently adopts its 
phraseology, who most deeply feels it." 

56. This. The reading of the folio, retained by W,, the Camb. editors, 
and others ; but it is not improbable that S. wrote " Thus," as Pope and 
others give it. 

58. Wheti it was out. That is, when the pastime was over. 

59. To be the snuff. That is, to be called a snuff. Cf. Lear, iv. 6. 39 : 

" My snuff and loathed part of nature should 
Burn itself out." 

60. Apprehensive. Fantastic, fastidious. 

61. Whose judg7ne7its are, etc. " Who have no other use of their facul- 
ties than to invent new modes of dress" (Johnson). Tyrwhitt conject- 
ured "feathers" iox fathers. 

62. Constancies. For the plural, see Rich. II. p. 206 (note on Sights), 
or Macb. p. 209 (note on Loves). 

64. I after him, etc. I, living after him, do wish as he did. 

66. Dissolved. Separated; as in M. W.v. 5. 237: "nothing can dis- 
solve us," etc. Here it may be suggested, as Clarke thinks, by the ivax 
that precedes, 

67. Labourers. Changed by Warb. to " labourer." 

You. ''re loved. The folio reading ("You 'r loued Sir"), and, as W. 
notes, to be preferred to the ordinary " You are lov'd," as loved is the 
emphatic word. 

68. Lend it you. That is, give you the love ; it referring to the antece- 
dent implied in loved. 

73. The rest. That is, the other physicians ; antithetical to him. 



I40 NOTES. 

74. Several applications. Their separate or various prescriptions. Foi 
several, see Ham. p. 267. 

75. Debate it. Contend for the mastery. Steevens compares Macb. ii. 

' I ' " That death and nature do contend about them 

Whether they Hve or die." 

Scene III. — 3. To even your content. " To act up to your desires " 
(Johnson). Cf. Cynib. iii. 4. 184 : 

" but we '11 even 
All that good time will give us;" 

that is, we '11 profit by any advantage offered. In the only other instance 
of the verb in S. {0th. ii, i. 308 : "Till I am even'd with him," etc.) it is 
= to be even or equal. In the present passage the Coll. MS. gives "win." 
5. We wound our modesty. Clarke remarks : " Shakespeare's delicate 
monitions on the subject of self-praise are always fine and finely ex- 
pressed ;" and he refers to M. of V. iii. 4. i and 22. Malone misquotes 
T. and C. i. 3. 241 : 

" The worthiness of praise distains his worth, 
If that the prais'd hin.self bring the praise forth." 

8. This knave. " Douce classes the Clown of this comedy amongst the 
domestic fools. Of this genus the same writer gives us three species : — 
The mere natural, or idiot ; the silly by nature, yet cunning and sarcasti- 
cal ; the artificial. Of this latter species, to which- it appears to us the 
Clown before us belongs, Puttenham, in his Art of English Foesie, has 
defined the characteristics : — 'A buffoon, or counterfeit fool, to hear him 
speak wisely, which is like himself, it is no sport at all. But for such a 
counterfeit to talk and look foolishly it maketh us laugh, because it is no 
])art of his natural.' Of the real domestic fools of the artificial class — 
that is, of the class of clever fellows who were content to be called fools 
for their hire, Gabriel Harvey has given us some minor distinctions : — 
' Scoggin, the jovial fool ; or Skelton, the melancholy fool ; or Elderton, 
the bibbing fool; or Will Sommer, the choleric fool' [Piercers Super- 
erogation, book ii.). Shakspere's fools each united in his own person 
all the peculiar qualities that must have made the real domestic fool val- 
uable. He infused into them his wit and his philosophy, without taking 
thtm out of the condition of realities. They are the interpreters, to the 
multitude, of many things that would otherwise ' lie too deep ' for words " 

II. Them. The antecedent is implied in complaints and expressed in 
knaveries. 

18. Go to the world. That is, be married. See A. V. L. p. 195 (note 
on To be a woman of the world), or Much Ado, p. 133. 

The woman. W. reads "your woman," believing that the abbrevia- 
tion "y""" in the MS. was mistaken for "y^," which is not improbable. 

23. Service is no heritage. " Service is no inheritance " is a proverb in 
Ray's collection. 

2^. Barjtes. The reading of the ist folio; the other folios have 
"beams" or "barns." W., who reads "barns," says that "all other 



ACT I. SCEiYE 11 L 



141 



editions Scotchify it into bairns f but V. had already given ^arw^j, with 
the following note : " Barnes is the word still used in Scotland for chil- 
dren, with a slight change both of sound and orthography. It is on ac- 
count of this difference, however slight, as marking the history of lan- 
guage, that I have retained the old spelling, instead of conforming, with 
most later editors, to the Scotch." See W. T. p. 180, or Much Ado, p. 
150. 

40. You V-^ shallow, madam, in great friends. " You are not deeply 
skilled in the character or office of great friends" (Johnson). Some ed- 
itors follow Hanmer in reading "shallow, madam ; e'en great," etc. 

42. Ears. Ploughs, tills ; as in Rich. II. iii. 2. 212 : " To ear the land," 
etc. See our ed. p. 192. Cf. Deut. xxi. 4, i Sam. viii. 12, Isa. xxx. 24, etc. 
W. says : " the word still survives in composition in arable.^'' The root 
of the A. S. erian, from which ear comes, is undoubtedly the same as that 
of the Latin arare, from which we get arable {arabilis). The obsolete 
earable (of which Nares gives sundry examples) is of course directly from 
ear. 

To in=to get in. The folio has "to Inne," and some modern eds. 
give "to inn." Cf. Bacon, Henry VII. : " All was inned at last into the 
king's barne ;" Holland, Pliny: "and when this is inned and laid up in 
the barne," etc. 

49. Charbon . . . Poysam. Malone says : " I apprehend this should 
be read 'old Poisson the papist,' alluding to the custom of eating fish on 
fast-days. ' Charbon the puritan ' alludes to the fiery zeal of that sect." 
The Camb. editors think that " S. may have written Chair-bonne and 
Poisson, alluding to the respective lenten fare of the Puritan and Papist" 
— a suggestion made independently by a writer in Notes and Queries (3d 
series, iv. 106). Clarke thinks that Charbon "may involve reference to 
the wholesale way in which Puritan preachers menaced evil-doers with 
what the clown afterwards calls ' the great fire.' " 

Howsotne'er. The ist and 2d folios have "how somere," the 3d 
" howsomeere," and the 4th "howsomere." In M. of V. iii. 5. 94, the 
folio has " how som ere ;" and in Ham. i. 5. 84, the quartos have " how- 
someuer." 

51. yozvl. Knock; also s^eXt Joul,joll, zwd j'ole by the editors. See 
Hatn. p. 261. Halliwell cites B. and F., Scornful Lady : " Whose head 
do you carry on your shoulders, that you jole it so against the [)ost ?" 

54. A prophet I. "It is a supposition that has lun through all ages 
and people that natural fools have something in them of divinity; on 
which account they were esteemed sacred. Travellers tell us in what es- 
teem the Turks now hold them ; nor had they less honour paid them 
heretofore in France, as appears from the old word benet for a natural 
fool. Hence it was that Pantagruel, in Rabelais, advised Panurge to go 
and consult the fool Triboulet as an oracle" (Warb.). 

55. AVjc^ = nearest ; as in W. T. iii. 3. 129: "home, home, the next 
way !" See our ed. p. i8r, 

59. By ki?id. By nature. See A. Y. L. p. 190 ; and cf. Much Ado, p. 
118 (on Kind) and p. 154 (on Kindly). 
65. This fair face, ^iz. The name of //^/^« reminds the Clown of this 



142 



NOTES. 



old ballad on the fall of Troy. The Coll, MS. transposes the cause and 
quoth she. 

67. Fond done., done fond. Done foolishly and fondly ; fond often 
meaning foolish, as in v. 3. 176 below. The Coll. MS. adds to the line 
" good sooth, it was." Capell conjectured " but Paris he," as Paris, not 
Helen, was Priani' s joy. 

72. A?7iong nifie bad., etc. The Clown's arithmetic has puzzled some of 
the critics, and Capell suggested "none" for one; but it is clearly right 
as it stands. If there are nine bad and one good, it is evident that there 
is one good in ten. 

75. You corrupt the song. That is, misquote it. Warb. supposes that 

it really read « rr i. t, j 

" If one be bad amongst nine good, 
There 's but one bad in ten ;" 

referring to Paris as the one " black sheep " among the ten sons of Pri- 
am who, at this period of his reign, were left out of the original fifty. 

77. A purifying 0'' the song. Perhaps by making it refer to women 
instead of men, as the "one good zvoman'''' seems to imply. The Coll. 
MS. adds "and mending of the sex," which Coll. thinks "adds point to 
the comment on the song." 

81. For every blazing star. The ist and 2d folios have " ore " {or for, 
and the later folios "o're." The Coll. MS. gives "one," and Halliwell 
conjectures "at." For was suggested by Harness, and is adopted by 
W., D., Clarke, and others. 

87. Though honesty, etc. K. remarks : " This passage refers to the 
sour objection of the puritans to the use of the surplice in divine service, 
for which they wished to substitute the black Geneva gown. At this 
time the controversy with the puritans raged violently. Hooker's fifth 
book of Ecclesiastical Polity, which, in the 29th chapter, discusses this 
matter at length, was published in 1597. But the question itself is much 
older — as old as the Reformation, when it was agitated between the Brit- 
ish and Continental reformers. During the reign of Mary it troubled 
Frankfort, and on the accession of Elizabeth it was brought back to Eng- 
land, under the patronage of Archbishop Grindal," whose residence in 
Germany, during his exile in Mary's reign, had disposed him to Genevan 
theology. The dispute about ecclesiastical vestments may seem a trifle, 
but it was at this period made the ground upon which to try the first 
principles of Church authority : a point in itself unimportant becomes 
vital when so large a question is made to turn upon it. Hence its prom- 
inency in the controversial writings of Shakspere's time ; and few 
among his audience would be likely to miss an allusion to a subject 
fiercely debated at Paul's Cross and elsewhere." 

Steevens quotes The Match at Midnight, \6T)T, '. "He has turn'd my 
stomach for all the world like a puritan's at the sight of a surplice ;" and 
The Hollander, 1640 ; "A puritan, who, because he saw a surplice in the 
church, would needs hang himself in the bell-ropes." Rann adopts Tyr- 
whitt's conjecture, " be a puritan." 

89. Big. Proud, haughty: as in T. of S. v. 2. 170: "My mind hath 
been as big as one of yours," etc. 



ACT /. SCENE III. 143 

98. Very late. Very lately. Cf. Lear, p. 190, note on Too late. 

103. Estates. Conditions, ranks. See on i. 1. 161 above. 

104. Only. Unless, except ; of " used as if the sentence were not neg- 
ative, but affirmative " (Schmidt). 

105. Diana no. Theo. supplied these words to fill an obvious gap in 
the original text. The Camb. editors print "level; . . . queen of vir- 
gins," with the following note : *' We have not inserted Theobald's ad- 
mirable emendation in the text, because it is probable that something 
more has been omitted, perhaps a whole line of the MS." 

106. Her poor knight. Theobald's emendation is strongly confirmed 
by the address to Diana in Much Ado, v. 3. 12 : 

" Pardon, goddess of the night, 
Those that slew thy virgin knight." 

On the ellipsis in suffer her poor knight surprised, cf. R. of L. 1832 : 

" That they will suffer these abominations, 
Since Rome herself in them doth stand disgrac'd, 
By our strong arms from forth her fair streets chas'd." 

D. quotes Drayton, Hannonie of the Church, 1591 ; " And suffer not their 
mouthes shut up, oh Lord;" Greene, Penelopes Web: "ingratitude in 
suffering the princesse iniury vnreuenged," etc. We find the to of the 
active infinitive omitted after suffer in Temp. iii. i. 62 and T. and C. ii. 3. 
196. 

109. Held my duty. Rovve inserted " it " after held. 

no. Sithence. Since; an old form used by S. only here and in Cor. 
iii. I. 47, where it is adverbial. For j////, which he uses often, see Ham. 
pp. 201, 246, 253. Gr. 132. 

115. Stall this. Shut it up, keep it close. 

119. Ever. Omitted by Pope and some other editors. Clarke para- 
phrases the line thus : " If ever we are thoroughly natural, or true to nat- 
ure, these are our impulses." . 

121. Our blood to us, etc. As our disposition or temperament is native 
to us, so this is native (or natural) to our disposition. 

125. Such were our faults, etc. Such were our faults — or, rather, we 
thought them no faults then ; or. Such were our faults — or what then we 
thought no faults, whatever we may call them now. Hanmer changed or 
to " though," and Johnson (at the suggestion of Warb.) to " O !" Mr. J. 
Crosby conjectures "for." The Coll. MS. reads " Search we out faults, 
for," etc. 

126. Her eye is sick on '/. " How graphically do these few words pict- 
ure Helena's look ! her eyes full of her yearning passion, her drooping 
lids unable to conceal the irrepressible love, her lashes heavy with sad- 
ness and late-shed tears " (Clarke). For ^// = of, see Gr. 181. 

135. And choice breeds, etc. " And our choice furnishes us with a slip 
propagated to us from foreign seeds, which we educate and treat as if it 
were native to us and sprung from ourselves" (Heath); or, our choice 
makes the offspring of another our own. 

139. Curd thy blood. Cf. Ham. i. 5. 69 : " And curd . . . The thin and 
wholesome blood." S. uses the verb only twice. 

141. That this disteffiperd messenger, etc. " There is something ex- 



144 NOTES. 

quisitely beautiful in this representation of that suffusion of colours which 
glimmers around the sight when the eyelashes are wet with tears" (Hen- 
ley). Cf.i^.^/Z:. 1586: 

" And round about her tear-distained eye 
Blue circles stream'd, like rainbows in the sky." 

147. Note. Mark of distinction ; as in *' men of note " (Z. L. L. iii. i. 
25), etc. Cf. V. 3. 14 below. 

153. Both our mothers. The mother of us both. 

154. I care no more for, etc. *' There is a designed ambiguity. ' I care 
no more for ' is ' I care as much for ;' I wish it equally " (Farmer). 

155. Can V no other, etc. "Can it be no other way, but if \ be your 
daughter, he must be my brother .'"' (Johnson). 

159. So strive upon. So contend in affecting, so in turn affect. 

160. Catch'' d. Detected. This form of the participle is also found in 
L. L. L. V. 2. 69 and R. and J. iv. 5. 48. The past tense catched occurs 
only in Cor. i. 3. 68. 

161. Loneliness. The folios have "louelinesse" (loveliness) ; corrected 
by Theo. 

162. Your salt tears'' head. " The source, the fountain of your tears, the 
cause of your grief" (Johnson). 

Gross. Palpable. See Hatn. p. 246 ; and d. g7-ossly in 168 below. 
164. Against. In the face of. 

168. Behaviours. For the plural, cf. Much Ado, ii. 3. 9, 100, J. C. i. 2. 
42, etc. 

169. /;/ their kind. In their way, according to their nature. See on 
59 above. 

172. You have wound a goodly clew. You have made a pretty snarl of 
it; doubtless a proverbial expression. 

173. Hozve''er. However this may be, at all events. 
178. Go not about. Do not quibble. 

Bond. Duty, obligation. See Lear, p. 169, note on According to my 
boiul. 

181. Appeach''d. Given testimony against you. In the only other in- 
stances of the verb in S. {Rich. II. v. 2. 79, 102) it is transitive. Halliwell 
quotes Palsgrave : " I apeche, I zccw^t,]'' accuse ; kursed be the preest of 
God, that dyd apeche me wrongfully and without deservyng." 

192. Captious. Explained by Malone as '■'■recipient, capable oi receiv- 
i7ig\N\\-dX is put into it;" while z///iv//Z'/f' = *' incapable of holding or retain- 
ing it." About the latter there can be no doubt, but the former is not so 
clear. Farmer conjectured "cap'cious," and Schmidt thinks the word is 
" probably = capacious." Sr. believes it is = the Latin captiosus, deceitful 
or fallacious. Clarke considers it "just possible " that S. may have intend- 
ed to include "something of all these meanings " in the word. If it has 
but one of the meanings, we are inclined to think it is the first (Ma- 
lone's) ; and this seems to be favoured by what follows : I still pour into 
this recipient sieve, though it continually loses what it receives. 

194. A7td lack not to lose still. And do not want for more to go on los- 
ing ; that is, have more love to throw away. Some make lack =■ fail, 
cease. 



ACT 11. SCENE L 



145 



200. Cites. Shows, proves. '* As a fact is p}-oved by citiug witnesses, 
or examples from books, our author, with his usual license, uses to cite in 
the same sense oito prove^^ (Malone). 

203. Botk herself atid love. Both herself andlove itself — at once purity 
and passion. It is not necessary to make love= Venus, as Malone does. 

204. That. Needlessly changed by Hanmer to "she." 

213. Manifest. Notorious, well-known ; changed in the Coll. MS. to 
"manifold." 

214. For general sovereignty. '* For sovereign remedies in various 
cases" (Clarke). 

215. Bestow. This is probably = "treasure up, keep carefully" 
(Clarke), not " employ," as Schmidt explains it, Cf. Sonn. 26. 8 : 

" But that I hope some good conceit of thine 
In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it;" 

that is, will treasure it up in thy heart. 

216. Notes whose facilities, etc. "Receipts in which greater virtues 
were inclosed than appeared to observation" (Johnson). 

219. Lajignis kings whereof, etc. Lingering disease, with which the 
king is said to be hopelessly afflicted. 

224. Conversation. Intercourse, interchange. Clarke sees in it also 
something of the original sense of the Latin conversatio, "conveying the 
whirl, the tossing to and fro in ceaseless discussion, of Helena's toiling 
thoughts:' 

231. Embowcir d of their doctrine. "Exhausted of their skill "(John- 
son). Left ^= abandoned, given up. 

232. In V. Changed by Hanmer (the conjecture of Warb.) to "hints;" 
but S. does not use hint as a verb. 

237. To try success. To try the issue, to try my fortune. Cf. iii. 6. 48, 
71 below. 
240. Knowingly. From knowledge or experience. Cf. Cymb. iii. 3. 46 ; 

" Did you but know the city's usuries, 
And felt them knowingly?" 

243. Those of mine. Those who are related to me; the Tiinsmen of ii. 
2. 56 below. 

244. Into. The reading of the ist and 2d folios, changed in the 3d to 
" unto," and by Hanmer to " upon." Cf. the use ol into in T. N. v. i. 87, 
Hen. V. i. 2, 102, ii. 2. 173, T. and C. iii. 3. 12, Ham. ii. 2. 28, etc. 



ACT IL 

Scene i. — i. Lords. The folio reading, changed by Hanmer and 
others to "lord ;" but the old stage-direction h^."^'' divers young Lords.'' 
Probably, as the Camb. editors suggest, the young noblemen are divid- 
ed into two sections according as they intend to take service with the 
" Florentines " or the " Senoys." Cf. i. 2. 13-15 above. 

6. After well enter' d soldiers. After beifig well initiated as soldiers* 
Cf. Milton, F. L. v. 248 : "After his charge receiv'd." Or. 418. 

K 



146 NOTES. 

9. He owes. Changed by Pope to "it owns;" but oxve often -own in 
S. Cf. ii. 5. 77, ill. 2. 1 16, and v. 3. 292 below. 

Steevens paraphrases the passage thus ; " As the common phrase is, 
I am still heart-whole ; my spirits, by not sinking under my distemper, do 
not acknowledge its influence." 

12. Let higher Italy, etc. An obscure and not improbably corrupt pas- 
sage. Higher Italy is commonly explained as Upper Italy ; but Warb. 
took it to refer to rank or dignity as compared with France, and Clarke 
makes it — " the noblest of Italy, the worthiest among Italians." Johnson 
gives the following paraphrase : " Let upper Italy, where you are to exer- 
cise your valour, see that you come to gain honour, to the abatement, that 
is, to the disgrace and depression, of those that have now lost their ancient 
military faine, and inherit but the fall of the last monarchy." K. ex- 
plains it thus : " Be you the sons of worthy Frenchmen ; let higher Italy 
(the Italian nation or people) see that you come to wed honour; but t 
except those, as unfit judges of honoiir, who inherit, not the Roman vir- 
tues, but the humiliation of the Roman decay and fall." Taking the pas- 
sage as it stands, we prefer this interpretation to Johnson's ; and we think 
that Schmidt's conjecture of "high" for higher is very probable, though 
we cannot accept his definition oi bated — "beaten down" (as in M. of V. 
iii. 3. 32). Coleridge conjectured " hired " for higher, and favoured (as 
W. does) Hanmer's reading of " bastards " for bated. Capell suggested 
" bated ones." 

16. Qnestajit. Seeker. Cf. qnestrist in Lear,\\\. 7. 17. The later folios 
have "question," and the Coll. MS. "questor." 

21. Beware of being captives, etc. "The word serve is equivocal; the 
sense is. Be not captives before you serve in the war" (Johnson). 

25. Spark. Parolles uses the word in the same personal sense again 
in 40 below. 

27. Kept a coil with. Made a fuss about. Coil, meaning turmoil, dis- 
turbance, is often used ironically or contemptuously — ado, "fuss." See 
R. and J. p. 178, or M. N. D. p. 168. The pointing in the text is Capell's. 
Some editors follow Pope in making Too young, etc.. the object oiwith. 

30. The forehorse to a smock. "Ushering in and squiring ladies" 
(Schmidt). For the contemptuous figurative use of smock, cf. R. and J. 
ii. 4. 109 : "Two, two ; a shirt and a smock." 

33. To dance with. As Steevens notes, it was usual, in Shakespeare's 
time, for gentlemen to dance v.Iiih their swords on. Cf. A. and C. iii. 1 1. 36; 

"he at Philippi kept 
His sword e'en like a dancer." 

But as the ordinary weapon would have been in the way, rapiers, light and 
short, were worn in its stead. Halliwell quotes Stafford, English Pollicy, 
1581 : "I think wee were as much dread or more of our enemies, when 
our gentlemen went simply and our serving-men plainely, without cuts or 
gards, bearing their heavy swordes and buckelers on their thighes, instead 
of cuts and gardes and light daunsing swordes." 

34. There 'j honour in the theft. Steevens quotes Macb. ii. 3. 151 : 

" there 's warrant in that theft 
Which steals itself." 



ACT IL SCENE I. 1^7 

36. Ts a tortici'''d body. Is like a dismembered body, since I grow to you. 

41. Spurio. "By the very name here given, S. has indicated this per- 
sonage to be a mere sham or invention of Parolles. In Florio's Jtal. 
Diet, spurio is explained 'one base born; used also for a counterfeit'" 
(Clarke). 

With his cicatrice, etc. The folio reads : " his sicatrice, with an Em- 
bleme ;" corrected by Theo. 

43. Entrenched. Cut. Cf. trench in V. and A. 1052, Macb. iii. 4. 27, etc. 

51. List. Boundary, limit. See Ham. p. 249, or Hen. V. p. 186. 
Expressive. Communicative; the only instance of the word in S. 

52. Wear themselves in the cap of the time. Are the ornaments of the 
age. Cf. Ham. ii. 2. 233 : " On Fortune's cap we are not the very but- 
ton." Warb. explained it, "to be foremost in the fashion." 

Muster true gait. Perhaps = muster with the true gait, the fashion- 
able style of walking. Heath conjectured "master," and the Coll. MS. 
has "they do master." If it were not Parolles who is speaking, we 
might suspect some corruption of the text ; but it is probably only his 
fantastic corruption of language. 

54. The most received star. The leader of fashion for the time. 

For i7ieasure — <l^\\ZQ., see Rich. II. p. 168, or R. and J. p. 153. 

61. Eee. The old eds. have "see," which K., W., and Clarke retain. 
The emendation is due to Theo. We adopt it because it seems in keep- 
ing with the free-and-easy relations of the king and the old courtier. 

62. Brought. Changed by Theo. to "bought;" but it may mean 
"brought his pardon with him," or "brought what will gain his pardon ;" 
alluding to Helena (Clarke \ 

67. Across. To break a lance across the body of an adversary, and not 
by a direct thrust, was considered disgraceful. Cf. A. Y. L. iii. 4. 44: 
" Swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart 
the heart of his lover ; as a puisny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one 
side, breaks his staff like a noble goose ;" Much Ado, v. i. 139: "give 
them another staff; this last was broke cross" (where, as here, the refer- 
ence is to a contest of wit), etc. 

71. My noble grapes. Omitted by Hanmer as superfluous ; but the my 
is emphatic. 

72. Medicine. Physician ; as in W. T. iv. 4. 598 (see our ed. p. 203), 
and perhaps in Macb. v. 2. 27 (see our ed. p. 248). Cotgrave has ''■Medi- 
cine, a she phisition." 

74. Canary. A lively dance. Cf the play upon the word in M. W. 
iii. 2. 89-91 : 

" Host. Farewell, my hearts. I will to my honest knight Falstaflf, and drink canaiy 
with him. {Exit. 

Ford. [Aside] I think I shall drink in pipe-wine first with him; I '11 make him 
dance." 

The verb ( = dance) occurs in Z. Z. Z. iii. i. 12 : "to jig off a tune at the 
tongue's end, canary to it with your feet," etc. 

76. Araise. Changed by Pope to "raise," and by the Coll. MS. to 
"upraise." See Wb. Ilalliwell says that the word occurs frequently in 
Malory's Morte d"" Arthur. 



148 NOTES. 

77. In V. For tlie contraction, cf. 104 and iv. 2. 70 below. See also 
Temp. ii. 2. 155, W. T. ii. 3. 100, etc. It will be remembered that Char- 
lemagne could not write. 

Malone thought a line had been lost between this and the next ; but 
the construction is not more elliptical than elsewhere in the play. 

82. Deliverance. Delivery, utterance ; as in ii. 5. 3 below. Cf. also 3 
Hen. VI. ii. I. 97 : "at each word's deliverance." 

83. Profession. What she professes to be able to do. Cf. Lear, v. 3. 
130 : " My oath and my profession," etc. 

85. Than I dare blame my weakness. One of the many somewhat ob- 
scure expressions in this play. Steevens explains it thus ; " To ac- 
knowledge how much she has astonished me would be to acknowledge a 
weakness ; and this I am unwilling to do." Mason says : " Lafeu's 
meaning appears to be, that the amazement she excited in him was so 
great that he could not impute it merely to his own weakness, but to the 
wonderful qualities of the object that occasioned it." Clarke's interpre- 
tation is: "hath filled me with more well-grounded astonishment than 
with weak credulity deserving blame." We are disposed to accept Ma- 
son's explanation, though Halliwell has perhaps expressed it better : 
" my amazement is too great for me to accuse my weakness of creating 
it; I cannot impute my surprise to my credulity." 

Z%. The admiration. This wonder ; the abstract for the concrete. 

93. Come your ways. More common in S. than come your way. See 
Ham. p. 191. 

97. Cressid's uncle. The Pandarus of T. and C. Cf. M. W. i. 3. 83 : 
" Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become ?" and T. N. iii. i. 58 : "I would 
play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus." 

102. Well found. Well skilled, expert. Cf well seen in T. of S.\.2. 
134. Steevens explains it as = '* of known, acknowledged excellence." 

104. On 's. See on 77 above. Many eds. give "on his." 

108. Triple. Third ; as in A. and C. i. i. 12 : " The triple pillar of the 
world." 

III. Honour . . . power. Rann transposed these nouns (Johnson's 
suggestion). 

121. To prostitute. For the ellipsis oi as here and in 123, see Gr. 281. 

123. To esteem, etc. As to think well of an unreasonable remedy when 
we deem all remedy past reasonable expectation. 

128. A modest one. " One acknowledging that I am modest" (Schmidt) ; 
or, better, "a moderately favourable one" (Clarke). 

131. Wish him live. For the ellipsis of to, cf I Hen. IV. i. 3. 159: 
" That wish'd him on the barren mountains starve." Gr. 349. 

135. Set tip your rest. Have made up your mind, are fully resolved. 
See M. of V. p. 139. 

138. So holy writ, etc. Cf. Matt. xi. 25 and I Cor. \. 27. St. compares 
Dart. i. 17; 20. Great floods alludes to the smiting of the rock in Horeb. 

141. When mi7-acles, etc. Referring to the passage of the Red Sea 
when miracles had been denied, or not hearkened to, by Pharaoh (Holt 
White). 

144. Fits. The early eds. have "shifts." Fits, the conjecture of Theo., 



ACT 11. SCENE I. 



149 



is also found in the Coll. MS. Some editors adopt Pope's reading, "sits." 
Cf. Soim. 120. 12, where "fits" (--befits, as here) rhymes with " hits." 
147. Took. Cf. y. C. ii. I. 50 : " Where I have took them up," etc. Gr. 

343- 

150. Square our gtiess by shows. "Form our conjectures according to 
appearances " (Clarke). 

155. That proclaim, etc. "That proclaim one thing and design an- 
other, that proclaim a cure and aim at a fraud ; I think what I speak" 
(Johnson). Clarke thinks it means "proclaim myself as being of equal 
importance with the object I hope to achieve." On ln<el, see W. T. p. 
168, or R. and J. p. 190. 

162. His diurnal ring. His daily circuit. 

163. Murk. Schmidt takes this to be a noun, but it may be an adjec- 
tive {— murky, ^\(\c\\ S. uses elsewhere), as others explain it. We find it 
as a noun in Piers Plowrnan and other early English, but it is an adjec- 
tive in The Komatinl of the Rose, 5342 : 

" The shadowe maketh her bemys merke, 
And hir homes to shewe derke." 

165. The pilot's glass. The hour-glass. Cf. Sonn. 126. 2: "Time's 
fickle glass," etc. 

170. Tax. Charge, reproach ; the only instance of the noun in S. ex- 
cept Rich. II. ii. I. 246, where it has its ordinary meaning. Cf. the verb 
in A. Y. L. ii. 7. 71, and see our ed. p. 164. 

173. N'ay, worst of worst, etc. The 1st folio has " ne worse of worst ;" 
the later folios change " ne " to "no." The emendation in the text is 
due to Malone, who paraphrases the passage thus: "And — what is the 
worst of worst, the consummation of misery — my body being extended 
on the rack by the most cruel torture, let my life pay the forfeit of my 
presumption." There is not much to choose between this reading and 
Hanmer's and Rann's " the worst of worst," etc., adopted by W., D., and 
others. V. retains the original text, explaining thus: "and, in addition 
(although that would not be worse, or a more extended evil than what I 
have mentioned — the loss of my honour, which is the worst that could 
happen) let me die with torture." For «^ = nor, cf. Per. ii. prol. 36. K. 
reads "no worse of worst," etc. St. conjectures "and, worst of worst 
expended." For many other emendations, see the Camb. ed. Schmidt 
would follow the folio, explaining essentially as V. does. In adopting 
Malone's reading we do not accept his pointing ("worst of worst, extend- 
ed"), nor his interpretation oi extended, which, in our opinion, simply in- 
tensifies the meaning of worst of worst: the very worst, and more than 
that. If we joined it with what follows, as he does, we should take it to 
be = after being /-r^^/t';/^^^ with torture, 

11$. Spirit. Monosyllabic (=J-/r//^), as often. Gr. 463. 

176, His poweiful sound. Changed by Hanmer to "It powerful 
sounds," and by Warb. to " His power full sounds." Sound is, wc think, 
the direct object of speak, as the Camb. editors and Schmidt make it. 
Some put a comma after speak, and assume that speaking is " under- 
stood " after sound. 

177. Ajid what impossibility, etc. "And that which, if I trusted to my 



I50 



NOTES. 



reason, I should think impossible, I yet, perceiving thee to be actuated 
by some blessed spirit, think thee capable of effecting" (Malone). 

i8o. In thee JiatJi estimate. " May be cojinted among the gifts enjoyed 
by thee " (Johnson). 

i8i. Youth, beauty, etc. Theo. inserted " virtue " after courage, and the 
Coll. MS. "honour," to fill out the measure. 

\%2. Prime. "Youth; the spring or morning of life " (Johnson). Tyr- 
whitt conjectured "pride," and Mason "in prime." 

184. Monstrous. Adverbial ; as in M. A\ D. i. 2. 54. 

185. Practiser. Practitioner, physician. 

187. Property. Explained by Malone as = "due performance;" but it 
is rather "particular quality" or "that which is proper to," as Schmidt 
and Clarke make it. 

\^\. Make it even. Fulfil it. 

192. Heaven. The early eds. have "helpe" or "help;" but Thirlby's 
conjecture of heaven is generally adopted, as a rhyme is evidently in- 
tended. 

198. Image. Representative; needlessly changed by Warb, to "imp- 
age (= grafting)." 

204. Resolved. Accented on the first syllable, like enjoin\i in iii. 5. 91 
below. Cf. Or. 492. See also Schmidt, jx 1413. 

210. Wo) d. Thy word, or promise. For meed the folios have "deed." 

Scene II. — 3. Highly fed. Well fed, with a play upon the phrase, 
which seems sometimes to have been=well bred. There is also an allu- 
sion to the proverb, "Better fed than taught," of which Halliwell quotes 
sundry instances, among them the following from Heywood's Epi- 
grammes, 1577 '• 

" Thou art better fed then taught, I undertake, 
And yet art thou skin and bone, leane as a rake.'' 

Cf. ii. 4. 36 below. 

8. Make a leg. Make a bow; as in Pich. II. iii. 3. 175. See also i 
Hen. IV. p. 169, note on My leg ; and cf T. of S. iv. i. 95. 

15. Like a barber's chair, etc. A proverbial expression, found in Ray's 
Proverbs and elsewhere. Steevens quotes More Fooles Yet, 1 610: 

" Moreover sattin sutes he doth compare 
Unto the service of a barber's chayre ; 
As fit for every Jacke and journeyman, 
As for a knight or worthy gentleman." 

16. Pin -buttock, quatch- buttock, and brawn- buttock. Thin, f?at, and 
fleshy, respectively. 

20. French crotvn. Bald head. Cf. M. iV. D. i. 2. 99 ; and see Hen. V. 
p. 175. On taffeta, see T. N. p. 141, or i Hen. IV. p. 142. It was much 
worn by women of the town. 

Tib's rush for Tom's fore) 'nger. Tib was a cant term for a woman, 
and often associated with Tom as yUl with Jack (see M. JV. D. p. 171). 
The allusion is to the old p.-actice of marrying with a rush ring, a 
dubious sort of union. See Brand's Popular Antiquities (Bohn's ed.), 
ii. 107. 



ACT II. SCENE III i^j 

2\. A morris. A morris-dance. See Hen. V. p. 159, or Douce 's Illus- 
trations of Shakespeare. 

24. The pudditig to his skin. The sausage to its skin. 

34. To he young again, etc. "The Countess follows up the Clown's 
remark as if it were an incomplete sentence ; making it form a smiling 
vindication of her beguiling time by listening to his fooleries, and thus 
bringing back something of the light-heartedness of youth" (Clarke). 

37. O Lord, sir! An expression much in vogue at court and in fash- 
ionable circles, in the poet's time, and ridiculed also by other writers. 

51. I play the noble huszvife, etc. Spoken ironically of course. For 
huswife (the usual spelling in the folio), see Hen. V. p. 183. 

Scene III. — Enter Lafeu and Parolles. The folio has ''Enter 
Count, Lafeiv, and Parolles.'''' It also gives the last sentence of the first 
speech {Why, 'tis the rarest, etc.) to ''Par.,''' and the next speech {Atid 
so 'tis) to " Pos." or Bertram. At 51 below it has the stage-direction 
" Enter 3 or 4 Lords." The whole scene appears to have been badly 
muddled by the printer, and has been variously re-arranged by the editors. 
The emendations we have adopted in the stage-directions, and in the as- 
signment of the speeches mentioned above, are due to Walker. It is 
evident that Bertram is not intended to make his appearance until the 
King has sent to summon "all the lords in court." 

2. Modern. Common, ordmary. See Macb. p. 243, or R. and J. p. 188. 
Cf. v. 3. 214 below. 

3. Causeless. Coleridge remarks that S. uses the word here "in its 
strict philosophical sense, cause being truly predicable only oi phenom- 
ena, that is, things natural, and not oi notimena, or things supernatural." 

4. Lito. " Sometimes found with verbs of rest implying motion " (Gr. 
159). Cf. Temp. i. 2. 361, Rich. III. v. 5. 51, etc. 

9. Relinquished of the artists. Given up by the learned physicians. S. 
uses artist only three times, and only with this sense of learning or schol- 
arship. Cf. T. and C. i. 3. 24 : " The wise and fool, the artist and un- 
read ;" and Per. ii. 3. 15 : 

" In framing an artist, art hath thus decreed, 
To make some good, but others to exceed ; 
And you are her labour'd scholar." 

13. Authentic. Acknowledged as authorities. Malone remarks that 
the word was "particularly applied to the learned." 

26. Dolphin. Steevens thinks this refers to the Dauphin, or heir ap- 
parent to the throne, whose name is so spelled in the books of the time 
(cf. Hen. V. p. 150, note on Dauphin); and Clarke believes that there is 
at least a punning allusion to that personage. We are inclined to think, 
however, that Dolphin here is " a plain fish " {Temp. v. I. 266), and noth- 
ing more. 

29. Facinerioiis. A word of ParoUes's own coining, which Steevens 
"corrected" into " facinorous." Halliwell thinks he was right in doing 
so, as Parolles does not elsewhere make such blunders. He cites among 
examples oi facinorous, I ley wood, Eng. Traveller: "And magnified for 
high facinorous deeds." 



152 



NOTES. 



33. In a most weak — . Johnson would continue Lafeu's speech to 
king, giving Parolles only As to be — . The Camb. editors conjecture 
that, after Lafeu's In a most weak — , Parolles says again, Ay, so I say ; 
and that the next two speeches belong to Lafeu, with a pause before gen- 
erally thankful. 

40. Lustig. The Dutch lustigh, lusty, active, sprightly. The early eds. 
have " Lustique " or " Lustick." 

42. A coranto. A lively dance. See T. AL p. 126, or Hen. V. p. 166. 

43. Mort du vinaigre I " Mor du vinager" in the folios. Coll. reads 
*' Mort du vainquer !" 

44. Fore God, I think so. Perhaps, as Clarke suggests, a following up 
of Lafeu's own speech just before, and not a reply to Parolles. 

48. Repeal d. Called back, restored. See 0th. p. 180, or J. C. p. 157 
(note on The repealing of my banish'' d brother). 

50. Attends. Awaits; as in M. W. i. i. 279 : "The dinner attends you, 
sir," etc. 

57. Bitt one. That is, but one mistress. Most editors adopt Mason's 
explanation : "one only excepted," namely, Bertram, whose mistress she 
hoped to be. " She makes the exception," he says, " out of modesty ; 
for otherwise the description of a fair and virtuous mistress would have 
extended to herself." There would be no "modesty," however, in ex- 
cepting virtnous. V. and H. agree with Mason, but W. does not. 

58. Ciirtal. The word means "having a docked tail," and elsewhere 
in S. {M. W. ii. 1. 114, C.of E. iii.2. 151, P. P. 273) it is applied to a dog. 

59. Broken. *' A broken mouth is a mouth which has lost part of its 
teeth " (Johnson). 

60. And writ as little beard. Cf. 2 Hen. IV. \. 2. 30: "I will sooner 
have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall get one on his 
cheek ; . . . and yet he '11 be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his 
father was a bachelor." 

Per7tse them well. Cf. 2 Hen. IV. iv. 2. 94 : " that we may peruse the 
men ;" Hen. VIII. ii, 3. 75 : "I have perus'd her well," etc. 

70. The white death. The paleness of death. Warb. strangely wished 
to read "dearth" for death. 

74. Ijfi/^erial LoTfe. As Coll. remarks, these words illustrate curiously 
the progress of error. The first folio has "imperiall loue ;" the 2d "im- 
periall loue," the / in " loue " being mistaken for an /. The 3d folio 
alters imperial to "impartiall," so that the imperial love of the 1st folio 
becomes " impartial Jove !" 

76. All the rest is mute. I have no more to say to you; Steevens com- 
pares Ham. V. 2. 369 : " The rest is silence." 

77. A?nes-ace, Two aces ; the lowest throw at dice. lie ironically 
contrasts this ill luck with the good luck of having a chance in the pres- 
ent choice. 

85. Do they all deny her ? As Johnson notes, none of them have de- 
nied her, or afterwards deny her, except Bertram. Lafeu and Parolles 
talk at a distance where they see what passes between Helena and the 
lords, but do not hear what is said ; so that they do not know by whom 
the refusal is made. 



ACT IL SCENE III. 



''SZ 



98. There 'j one grape yet, etc. Theo., Hanmer, and Warb. divided 
this speech between Lafeu and Parolles, giving to the latter I aj/i sure 
thy father drank wine; but Johnson explains the old text thus: "Old 
Lafeu having, upon the supposition that the lady was refused, reproached 
the young lords as boys of ice, throwing his eyes on Bertram, who re- 
mained, cries out, 'There is one yet into whom his father put good blood 
— but I have known thee long enough to know thee for an ass.'" W. 
thinks that " the hopes first expressed by the old courtier are dashed by 
Bertram's turning away from Helena as she pauses before him, and be- 
fore she has spoken." We prefer Johnson's explanation, as there is ev- 
idence in other parts of the play that Lafeu has no very high opinion of 
Bertram's judgment ; as, for instance, his seeing how the young fellow is 
deceived in Parolles. 

113. Charge. Expense, cost ; as in iii. 5. 95 below. 

116, Title. That is, the zvant of title or rank. Clarke thinks that title 
refers to the one Bertram has just given Helena — a poor physician's 
daughter. 

118. Of colotir,e.\.c. "Of the same colour, etc." (Malone) ; or ^--as 
regards (Gr. 173). The latter is perhaps to be preferred. 

119. Confound distinction. Make it impossible to distinguish them. 
122. Dislikest of Cf. like of in Much Ado, v. 4. 59 : "I am your hus- 
band if you like of me," etc. 

126. Additions sivell 's. Titles inflate us, puff us up. The reading is 
that of the ist folio, the 2d having "addition swell's," and the 3d and 
4th "addition swells." For addition, see Macb. p. 164. 

128. Vileness is so. Vileness is like it in that respect ; that is, it is vile 
without a name. Various changes in pointing and wording have been 
proposed, but none is necessary. Malone paraphrases the passage well : 
" Good is good, independent on any w^orldly distinction or title : so vile- 
ness is vile, in whatever state it may appear." 

129. Property. The intrinsic quality. 

133. Challenges itself Asserts its claim. QA. L. L. L. v. 2. 438 : " When 
she shall challenge this, you will reject her." 

134. Thrive. The later folios, followed by some modern eds., read 
"best thrive ;" but sire is a dissyllable. Gr. 480. 

137. Debosh\i. Debauched ; the only form of the word in the folio. 
Cf. V. 3. 204 below, and see Lear, p. 192. Here it is = prostituted, per- 
verted. 

145. To choose. That is, to try to do otherwise than love her. Cf. 
cannot choose in i. 3. 204 above. 

148. Which to defeat. Elliptical for " which ^/<z;/^^r to defeat." Theo. 
changed defeat to "defend." 

151. Misprision. " Undervaluing, contempt " (Schmidt). Elsewhere 
in S. it is = mistake, misapprehension. See Much Ado, p. 156, or M. A'. 
D. p. 162. 

153. Poising us. Adding the weight of our influence or patronage. 

157. T-avails in. Is working for. The 3d folio has " travells," and 
the 4th " travels." The forms travail and travel are used indiscrimi- 
nately in the early eds. 



154 NOTES. 

158. Presently. Immediately; the usual meaning in S. Set M. 0/ V. 
p. 131. 

162. Staggers. " Perplexity, bewilderment " (Schmidt), or "unsteady 
courses " (Clarke). For careless ( = heedless) Walker suggests " cureless." 

167. Fancy. Probably = love (cf. i. i.'Qi), as generally explained; but 
it may be = liking, taste, as in iv. i, 16 below. 

168. Dole. Dealing out, allotment. See W. T. p. 156. 
175. A/ore replete. More than an equivalent. 

177. Contract. Accented on the last syllable; as often. See R. and J. 
p. 166. Gr. 490. 

178. Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief. Perhaps == shall seem 
expedient to follow the mandate just given. According to Cowell {Law 
Diet. 1607), a brief \s, "any precept of the king in writing, issuing out of 
any court, whereby he commands any thing to be done." Steevens takes 
expedient to be = expeditious, quick (cf. A'. John, p. 141), and the 7iow- 
borfi brief —'^ the contract recently and suddenly made." " The ceremony 
of it (says the king) shall seem to hasten after its short preliminary, and 
be performed to-night." Warb. reads "new-born." The ist and 2d 
folios have " now borne," the others " now born." 

180. Shall more attend, etc. Shall be deferred to a future day when 
we may expect friends now absent. 

182. Thy love to me 's religious. Thy loyalty to me is fulfilled as a sa- 
cred obligation. 

Exeiittt, etc. The folios ~have the stage-direction : ^'■Parolles and Lafew 
stay behiiid, commenting of this wedding f which, as Steevens remarks, 
must be "only the marginal note of a prompter." 

198. I write man. I claim to be a man. See on 60 above. 

201. For two ordinaries. "While I sat twice with thee at table" (John- 
son). For ordinary — vatT\, cf. A. and C. ii. 2. 230 : 

"goes to the feast, 
And for his ordinary pays his heart 
For what his ej'es eat only." 

202. Of thy travel. Cf. ii. 5. 27 below ; and see K. John, p. 136, note 
on Yonr traveller. 

203. Scarfs and the bannerets. Cf. M. of V. ii. 6. 15 : "The scarfed 
bark." 

205. Found thee. Found thee out ; as in ii. 4. 31 and v. 2. 39 below. 
See also Ham. p. 220. Here there is a play upon the word; as upon 
taking tip just below. 

208. Antiquity. Age ; as in 2 Hen. IV. i. 2. 208, etc. Cf. ancient in 
T. ofS. V. I. 75, W. T. iv. 4. 79, 372, etc. 

211. Thy trial. That is, your being tested and found wanting. 

212. Windozu of lattice. The metaphor is sufficiently explained by 
what follows. Clarke sees also a reference to the lattice windows of 
alehouses. See 2 Hen. IV. p. 164. 

225. In the default. "At a need " (Johnson and Schmidt), or in de- 
fault of otner testimony. 
230. As I zvill by thee, etc. " That is, will pass by thee as fast as I am 



ACT II. SCENE IV. 155 

able; and he immediately goes out" (Malone). Warb. supposed a line 
to be lost after past. 

233. Scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! "By the mere repetition of this 
epithet scurvy here, and by the sputtered broken sentence, / '// have no 
more pity, etc., how well S. has given the effect of the impotent rage, the 
fuming aggravation, and teeth -grinding threats of ParoUes, when left 
alone; and then the exquisite comedy touch oi I'll beat him, an if I 
could but meet him again, followed up by the immediate re-entrance of 
Lafeu !" (Clarke). 

247. Garter up thy arms, etc. Halliwell cites Fairholt, who shows how 
servants used to gather up their long sleeves and tuck them into their 
girdles, in order that these fashionable appendages might not be in the 
way while they were attending to their duties. 

250. Methinks. The folio has "meethink'st," perhaps for "methinks 
't"=/V thinks me, it seems to me. See Ham. p. 269, note on Thinks 
V thee. 

252. Breathe themselves. Exercise themselves. See on i. 2. 16 above. 

254. For picking a ker^iel, etc. That is, for the pettiest of small thefts.. 

257, Commission. Warrant. Some editors follow Hanmer in trans- 
posing commission and heraldry. The Coll. MS. has "condition" for 
commission. 

265. Bed. For the verb, cf. iii. 2. 21 below. See also T. of S. i. i. 149. 

275. Kicky-wicky. The ist folio has "Kickie wickie," the later folios 
"kicksie wicksie " or "kicksy wicksy." "It is a ludicrous word, of no 
definite meaning, except, perhaps, to imply restlessness " (Nares). 

278. To. Compared with ; as in 287 and iii. 5. 56 below. Gr. 187. 

279. Jades. For the masculine use, see K. John, p. 148. 

285. Furnish tne to. Equip me for. Cf. M. of F. \. 1. 1S2 : "To fur- 
nish thee to Belmont," etc. 

287. Detested. The folios have "detected;" corrected by Theo. Cf. 
iii. 5. 62 below. 

288. Capriccio. Caprice, whim (Italian). 

293. A young mail married, etc. Cf M. W. i. I. 25 : 

" Shallow. You may by marrying. 
Evans. It is marring indeed," etc. 

See also R. and J. p. 146, note on iMade. 

Scene IV. — 31. Found. See on ii. 3. 205 above. 

36. Well fed. "An allusion, perhaps, to the old saying, 'Better fed 
than taught ;' to which the Clown has himself alluded in a preceding 
scene" (Ritson). See on ii. 2. 3 above. 

41. To a compelPd restraint. The 3d folio changes to to "by ;" but to 
naturally follows puts off, and implies to the time to which the restraint 
compels postponement. 

42. Whose refers to prerogative. The sweets are those of anticipation. 
Malone quotes T. atid C. iii. 2. 19 : 

"expectation whirls me round. 
The imaginary relish is so sweet 



156 



NOTES. 

That it enchants my sense ; what will \i be 
When that the watery palate tastes indeed 
Love's thrice repured nectar?" 

43. The curbed time. Th.& Y>^\\od o{ compelled restrairit. 

49. Alay fnake it probable need. May make it seem like necessity. 

50. This. That is, the king's permission to depart. 

Scene V. — 2. Valiant approof. Approved valour. See on i. 2. 50 
above. 

^. Dial. Probably = watch. See ^. K Z. p. 163. 

A bunting. " The bunting is, in feather, size, and form, so like the 
skylark, as to require nice attention to discover the one from the other; 
it also ascends and sinks in the air nearly in the same manner : but it 
has little or no song, which gives estimation to the skylark " (Johnson). 

8. Accordingly. In proportion, equally. 

17. /, sir. For the repetition of 7, see R. and J. p. 180. The Van 
of 1821 has " O, I know him well: Ay, sir," etc. (not noted in the 
Camb. ed.). 

26. End. The folios have "And." The correction is from the Eger- 
ton MS. Halliwell quotes Warner, Albions England: " Their lofty heads 
have leaden heeles, and end where they begun." 

36. Like him that leaped into the custard. The Lord Mayor's fool used 
actually to do this at civic entertainments, an enormous custard being 
prepared for the purpose. Theo. quotes B. J., The Devil 's an Ass, i. i : 

" He may, perchance, in tail of a sheriffs dinner, 
Skip with a rhyme o' the table, from New-nothing, 
And take his Almain-leap into a custard, 
Shall make my lady mayoress, and her sisters. 
Laugh all their hoods over their shoulders." 

44. Of them. Some of them, such creatures. For this partitive use 
of ^ cf. W. T. iv. 4. 217 : " You have of these pedlers,"etc. Gr. 177. 

45. Have or will to deserve. The reading of the 1st folio ; the later fo- 
lios omit to. It is = have deserved or will deserve. Malone conjectures 
"have qualities or will to deserve," and Sr. " w// or will." 

47. Idle. Silly ; as in iv. 3. 196 below : " a foolish idle boy." 

48. / think so. Some read " I think not so ;" which, it seems to us, in 
avoiding one difficulty — if it be a difficulty [comtnofi speech, etc.) — creates 
another, in the interpretation of the next line. The passage, as it stands, 
may be interpreted well enough, as Clarke does it : " Bertram, light-judg- 
ing, unprincipled, without respect for goodness and moral worth, care- 
lessly assents to Parolles' remark ; while the latter, surprised to hear his 
vituperation confirmed, asks ' Why, do you not know him ?' Then Ber- 
tram replies : 'Oh, yes, I know him thoroughly, and he passes with the 
generality of persons for a most worthy man.'" There is really an an- 
tithesis between "/ think so" and ^^ common speech gives him a worthy 
pass." 

54. Parting. Departing. See M. of V. p. 145. 

57. Holds not colour ivith. Is not in keeping with. 

59. On my particular. On my part, so far as I personally am con- 



ACT in. SCENES L AND IL 



157 



cerned. Cf. A. and C. iv. 9. 20 : " Forgive me in thine own particular ;" 
and see also Lear, p. 214, note on For his particular. 

63. Muse. Wonder, See Matb. p. 219, or K. John, p. 158. 

64. Respects. Motives, reasons. See Rich, III. p. 220, or K. John, 
p, 158, 

77, Owe. Own, See on ii, i. 9 above. 

87, Where are my other men, etc. In the foh'o this line is given to 
Helena. Theo. transferred it to Bertram, to whom it probably belongs. 
The case is not, however, so clear as the editors generally regard it ; for, 
as W, remarks, " Helena, as the wife of the Count of Rousillon, or even 
as his mother's ward, about to set out on a journey, would certainly need 
and have quite a retinue, including some armed men," 

90, Coragio ! Courage ! Used also by Stephano in Temp. v. i. 258, 



ACT HI, 

Scene I. — 6. Opposer. Changed by Hanmer to " opposer's ;" but cf. 
Cor. i. 6, 27 : 

" More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue 
From every meaner man." 

10, Yield. Give you, inform you of, 

1 1, But like. Except as. Outward— " one not in the secret of affairs " 
(Warb,), 

12, That frames, etc. Who tries to make out the great idea of a coun- 
cil in his own imperfect way. This interpretation seems to us clearly 
confirmed by what follows. Clarke explains the whole passage thus: 
" The reasons of our state I cannot give you, excepting as an ordinarv 
and uninitiated man, whom the august body of a government-council cre- 
ates with power unable of itself to act, or with power incapable of acting 
of its own accord and independently." Warb, changed motion to " no- 
tion." Cf, A. and C. ii, 3, 14 : 

" I see it in 
My motion, have it not in my tongue." 

17, Nature. Changed by Rowe to "nation," The younger of our 7iat- 
ure =yo\xwg fellows like us, 

22, Better. Those higher in rank, your superiors in office. It seems 
to refer io places, but means those who fill the places. 

For your avails. For your advantage ; as bringing you promotion. 
The plural is used because more than one person is referred to. See 
Rich. II. p. 206, note on Sights. S, uses the noun avail only here and in 
i, 3. 174 above. 

Scene II. — 7, The riff. Probably the ruff, or ruffle, of the boot (the 
part turned over at the top), as Whalley explains it ; not the ruff worn 
on the neck, as it is elsewhere ( T. of S. iv. 3. 56, 2 Hen. IV. ii. 4. 145, 157, 
and Per. iv. 2. in), and as Schmidt makes it here. If it were the latter, 
we should expect '"'■ his ruff." According to Fairholt, the fashion of wear- 



158 



NOTES. 



ing ruffs round the boot originated in France, ana was introduced into 
England in the latter part of the i6th century. They were made of as 
delicate and costly material as the lace worn round a lady's neck, and 
their resemblance to a rufif is well shown in contemporaneous drawings. 

8. Hold. The reading of the ist and 2d folios; the 3d and 4th, fol- 
lowed by most modern eds., have "sold." Some explain hold as refer- 
ring to the tenure by which he held the manor ; but more likely, as W. 
says, it means " the value he set on it : he held it worth a song, or, in 
other words, he loved music more than money." That a man should lit- 
erally sell a manor for a song is not prol)able, but the Clown in his exag- 
gerating style might very likely say that he reckoned it worth no more 
than a song. For kfiew the folios have " know," which some retain. 

13. Ling. A fish (the Gadus molva) formerly much eaten in England 
during Lent. " The Clown probably uses ling for meagre food in gener- 
al, as he uses Isbels for waiting-women generally" (Clarke). 

18. E'en. Misprinted "In" in the folios; corrected by Theo. 

21. Shall hear. Will hear, are sure to hear. Gr. 315. 

28. Misprising. Undervaluing, despising (Fr. w^z^'^^-f^^). See /^. Y. L. 
p. 140, and cf. misprision in ii. 3. 151 above. 

39. Was run. Had run. Cf. J. C. v. 3. 25 : " My life is run his com- 
pass," etc. Gr. 295. 

46. Wofuajt me. Make me show a woman's weakness. At first the 
expression seems a strange one in a woman's mouth, and Schmidt sug- 
gests that it may mean " to make a servant, to subdue ;" but we think it 
is simply = to be affected as women usually are. 

48. Thitherward. Going thither. Cf. 63 below. 

51. Passport. Clarke remarks : " Helena uses this word as an equiv- 
alent for 'permission to pass from life, sentence of death.' A passage 
from Sidney will illustrate this: 'Giving his reason passport for to pass 
whither it would, so it would let him die.' " 

52. Upo7t my finger. Which is upon my finger. Warb., misunder- 
standing it, changed tipojt to "from;" and Johnson at first thought of 
reading "upon thy finger which never shall come off mine." 

59. Have a better cheer. W^e should now say, be of better cheer. For 
the original sense oi. cheer, see M. of V. p. 152. 

60. All the griefs are thine. All that are thine. The ellipsis of the rel- 
ative is common enough (see Gr. 244), but Mason wanted to read, '■'■ as 
thine." The meaning is "If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself" 
(Steevens). 

61. Moiety. Often meaning a portion other than a half See W. T. p. 
169, or Ham. p. 174. 

67. Good convenience. Propriety. 

73. Which, haply, etc. The folio has "haply, which his heart," etc. 
It also prints the following speeches of i Gentleman as prose, with the 
Countess's in 88-92. The transposition in the text was made lay D. 

85. With his inducement. Induced by him, through his influence. 

87. Holds him much to have. A puzzling passage. Theo. conjectured 
"soils" for holds, and Hanmer " 'hoves [that is, behoves] him not much 
to have." Warb. says, "That is, his vices stand him in stead;" and 



ACT in. SCENE 11. 



159 



Heath thinks that the meaning is, " This fellow hath a deal too much of 
that which alone can hold or judge that he has much in him ; that is, 
folly and ignorance." W. suggests that that in 86 may be "merely a de- 
finitive belonging to too-much in the sense of excess = ;/;>«/>." Clarke 
believes that holds, if it be what S. wrote, is an abbreviation oi upholds, 
and that the meaning is : "The fellow has a deal of that too-much {too 
much signifying excess of boastful talk, pretentiousness), which, he hav- 
ing, upholds him much in general opinion, maintains him in good estima- 
tion, or avails him well to possess." We are inclined to think that too 
much—t\ztss. Cf. //(/;//. iv. 7. 119: 

*' For goodness, growing to a pleurisy, 
Dies in his own too-much ;" 

and Lear, v. 3. 206 : " To amplify too-much," etc. The real difficulty is in 
the holds, which W. does not explain, and which we think Clarke has the 
right idea of, though it is not necessary to consider the word a "contrac- 
tion " of uphold. Cf. //f'/rt' ( = maintain) in i. i. 71 above ; where, by the 
by, Rann substituted " uphold." Possibly holds includes the meaning of 
"befits " as well as "upholds" (cf. what Helena says of Parolles in i. i. 
96 : " Yet these fix'd evils sit so Jit in him," etc.), but we can find no satis- 
factory authority for that sense. Schmidt makes hold—'^io be fit, to be 
consistent," in i Hen. IV. i. 2. 34: "Tliou sayst well, and it holds well 
too ;" and in iv. 2. 27 below : " This has no holding," etc. ; but in the 
former passage holds well seems equivalent to the familiar holds good, and 
in the latter holding \'s, rather — binding force than fitness. 

94. Change. Exchange, interchange ; as in Temp. i. 2. 441, A. Y. L. \. 
'i.c)l,R.and J. iii. 5. 31, etc. 

102. N'one-spa7'ing. Clarke has "non-sparing;" perhaps a misprint. 

107. Still-piecing. Closing immediately, woundless. The 1st folio has 
"still peering" (which Schmidt thinks may possibly mean "motionless in 
appearance"), and the later folios "still piercing." The emendation in 
the text is an anonymous one first mentioned by Steevens, and adopted 
by D., W., St., v., Claike, and others. Piecing would probably be 
"peecing" in the MS. The Coll. MS. has "wound the still-piecing air." 
Nares conjectured "still-pierced." V. quotes, in support of still-piecing. 
Temp. iii. 3. 63 : 

" Wound the loud winds, rr with bemock'd-at stabs 
Kill the still-closing waters." 

Bailey would read "still-closing" here. V. adds : "This idea is oriental 
and scriptural, and may well have been suggested by a passage in the 
apocryphal book of The Wisdom of Solotnon : 'As when an arrow is shot 
at a mark, it parteth the air, which immediately cometh together again, 
so that a man cannot know where it went through.' " 

114. Ravi7i. Ravenous. For the verb ravin, see Macb. p. 204. The 
4th folio has "raving," and Rowe (2d ed.) gives "rav'ning." 

116. Oives. See on ii. i. 9 above. 

118. Whence. From that place where. "The sense is, from that 
abode where all the advantage that honour usually reaps from the dan- 
ger it rushes upon is only a scar in testimony of its bravery, as, on the 
other hand, it often is the cause of losing all, even life itself" (Heath). 



i6o NOTES. 

123. Offi,c\i all. Did all the offices or duties of the house, were the 
only servants. For the verb, cf. Cor. v. 2. 68: "cannot office me," etc. 
See also W. T. p. 156. The ist folio has "angles " for angels. 

125. Consolate. The only instance of the word in S. Console he does 
not use at all, and consolatioji only in T. of S. ii. I. 191 and A. and C. i. 2. 
75. Halliwell cites, among other instances of consolate, Sylvester's Da 
Bartas : "That which most grieves me, most doth consolate." 

126, Steal. For the play upon the word, cf. ii. i. 33, 34 above. See 
also Much Ado, iii. 3. 63. 

Scene III. — 2. Credence. Confidence, trust ; as in i. 2. 11 above and 
T. and C. v. 2. 120. 

6. Extreme. Accented by S. on the first syllable, except in Sonn. 129. 
4, ID ; but the superlative is always extremest. V. notes that Milton has 
adopted Shakespeare's phrase in P. R. i. 95 : 

" Ye see our danger on the utmost edge 
Of hazard."' 

7. Play. " By using the word here S. ingeniously conveys the idea of 
favouring sunshine. Sunbeams //(^zj'///^ upon an object is so familiar a 
form of speech that the mere introduction of the verb suggests the idea. 
Thus, by his masterly choice of words, does the poet often present, 
through the medium of a single syllable, a perfect metaphor, as well as a 
vivid picture to the imagination " (Clarke). Cf. K. John, ii. i. 307 : 

"And victory with little loss doth play 
Upon the dancmg banners of the French." 

Scene IV. — 4. St. Jaques' pilgrim. It is not likely that the poet had 
any particular shrine of St. James in mind, though the commentators 
have tried to give it a local habitation, Jaques is a dissyllable, as else- 
where. See A. Y. L. p. 152. 

12. His taken. Rann conjectured "Herculean." The mention of 
Juno shows that the labours of Hercules are alluded to, but no change 
in the text is called for. 

15. Dogs. Changed by Rowe to " dog," but two singular subjects often 
take a singular verb, or "the plural in -j," as Abbott prefers to call it. 
See Gr. 336. 

19. Advice. "Discretion, or thought" (Johnson). Cf "on more ad- 
vice " = on more thought, on farther consideration ; as in M. ofV. iv. 2. 6, 
Hen. V. ii. 2. 43, etc. 

23. Over-night. A noun ; like e'er-night in T. of A. iv. 3. 227 : " thy 
o'er-night's surfeit." 

27. Whom. Changed by Hanmer to "which;" but the passage is sim- 
ply one of those "confusions of construction " (see Gr. 409-416) so com- 
mon in S. Whom first refers to her (Gr. 218), but in the second clause 
rather \o prayers. 

32. Weigh. " Value or esteem " (Steevens), with a kind of play upon 
the repeated word. 

42. And. Changed by Hanmer to "but." 



ACT III. SCENE V. i6i 

Scene V. — 1-14. Ahxy, come . . . his companion. Arranged in the folio 
as seventeen lines of verse ; as prose first by Pope, 

7. Tucket. A flourish on the trumpet ; the " tucket sonance " of Hen. 
V. iv. 2. 35 (see our ed. p. 176). 

16. A filthy officer. One who does a filthy office. Cf. T. G. of V. i. 2. 
45, 7:^/6-. V. 2. 37, etc. 

Suggestions. "Temptations" (Steevens). Cf. i Hen. IV. p. 192. 

19. Go U7ider. Pass for, whose names they go under. 

21. Dissuade succession. Keep others from going the same way. 

22. Limed with the same tivigs. An allusion to the use oi birdlime in 
catching birds. See Much Ado, p. 142, or Hitn. p. 233. 

28. Lie. Lodge. See 2 Hen. IV. pp. 179, 192, or T. N. p. 146. 

32. Palmers. Pilgrims. Cf. R. of L.'j()\ : "As palmers' chat makes 
short their pilgrimage," etc. Reed quotes Blount, Glossography : "A 
])ilgrim and a palmer differed thus : a pilgrim had some dwelling-place, 
the palmer none ; the pilgrim travelled to some certain place, the palmer 
to all, and not to any one in particular; the pilgrim might go at his own 
charge, the palmer must profess wilful poverty ; the pilgrim might give 
over his profession, the palmer must be constant till he had XhQ palm; 
that is, victory over his ghostly enemies and life by death." 

33. Fort. Gate ; as in Cor. i. 7. I, v. 6. 6, etc, 
36. Pilgrim. A trisyllable here. See Gr. 477. 

39. For. Because; as in 50 just below. Gr. 151, 

40. Ample. Capell conjectured " amply ;" but the word is again used 
adverbially in T. of A. i. 2, 136 : " how ample you 're belov'd." Gr. r. 

48. His face I know not. A falsehood of course, but to be justified as 
necessary to the disguised part she was playing. The disguise itself was 
an acted falsehood, and could be maintained only by spoken falsehood. 
Clarke quotes T. N. ii. 2. 28 : 

"Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness, 
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much ;" 

which shows that the poet was not unaware of the wrong involved in it, 
though he accepted it as a dramatic necessity. Coleridge asks : " Shall 
we say here that S. has unnecessarily made his loveliest character utter a 
lie ? Or shall we dare think that, where to deceive was necessary, he 
thought a pretended verbal verity a double crime, equally with the other 
a lie to the hearer, and at the same time an attempt to lie to one's own 
conscience .'"' 

JVhatsome^er. Cf. A. and C. ii. 6. 102 ; and see on i. 3. 49 above. 

52. Alere the truth. Nothing but the truth. In iv. 3. 20 below we have 
wfrif/j^ absolutely, for which see Temp. p. iii, note on IVe are merely 
'heated. Hanmer gave "the meer " and Warb. "meerlye." 

54. Reports. For the ellipsis of the relative, cf iii. 3. 60 above. 

56. To. Compared with. See on ii. 3. 273 above. 

59. Honesty. Chastity ; as in 12 above and iv. 4. 28 below. 

60. Examined. Questioned. 

63. I write, good creature, etc. The 1st folio has "I write good creat- 
ure ;" the other folios " I right good creature." Some editors follow the 



1 62 NOTES. 

1st folio, taking the meaning to be " I call her good creature," like '* T 
write man " in ii. 3. 198 above ; but that idiom appears to be used only 
by persons speaking of themselves. Rowe has "Ah ! right good creat- 
ure !" and Theo. "Ah! right; good creature !" but the exclamation does 
not seem natural here. The pointing in the text is due to W., and the 
meaning is "I write (=^declare) her heart weighs sadly," the intervening 
words being parenthetical. The nearest approach to this use of wnte 
that we can find is the zm-ite against in Much Ado, iv. I. 57, and Cynib. ii. 
5. 32 ; but, though Schmidt defines write there as = " declare," it is by no 
means a parallel case. We adopt the reading only as a choice of evils, 
and suspect some corruption. Malone's conjecture " I weet, good creat- 
ure," etc., seems to us a very plausible one. 

65. SJiJ-ewd. Mischievous, evil. See Hen. VIII. p. 202, or J. C. p. 145. 

68. Brakes. Treats through a broker or pander — Parolles, as after- 
wards appears. Cf. the use oi broker in K. John, ii. i. 568, 582 ; and see 
also Ham. p. 191. 

86. Shrewdly, Combining the ideas of micch and badly. Cf. Hen. V. 
p. 170. 

89. A ring-earner. A go-between, pander. See on 68 just above. 

91. Host. Lodge ; as in C. of E. i. 2.9 ; "Go, bear it to the Centaur, 
where we host." E7iJoin' d — hom^d by a vow. For the accent, see on ii. 
I. 204 above. 

94. Please it. If it please \ 2iS m T. G. of V. iii. i. 52, etc. 

97, Of The later folios and some modern eds. have "on." Cf. T. N'. 
iii. 4. 2 : "what bestow of him ?" Gr. 175. 

98. Worthy the note. Worth noting or attending to. 

Scene VI. — 3. Hilding. A contemptible fellow. See R.andJ. p. 172. 

II. Entertaiiinient. Service; as in iv. I. 15 below. See 0th. p. 187; 
and cf. Much Ado, p. 127, note on Entertained for. 

17. Fetch off his drum. Rescue his drum. Fairholt remarks: "The 
drums of the regiments of his day were decorated with the colours of the 
battalion." The loss of the drum was therefore "equivalent to the loss 
of the flag of the regiment." See i Hett. IV. p. 185, note on Drum. 

23. Leaguer. The camp of a besieging army ; sometimes used for a 
camp in general. See Wb. Douce quotes Sir John '^rtmyih^, Discourses, 
1590: "They will not vouchsafe in their speaches or writings to use our 
ancient termes belonging to matters of warre, but doo call a campe by 
the Dutch name of Legar ; nor will not affoord to say, that such a towne 
or such a fort is besieged, but that it is belegard.^'' 

32, His. The folios have "this;" corrected by Rowe. 

33. Ore. The folios have "ours ;" corrected by Theo. The Coll. MS. 
has "ores." For the poet's use of the word, see Haf?i. p. 242. 

John Driini's entertainment. We have no doubt that originally John 
Drum was merely a sportive personification of the drum, and that the 
entertainment was a beating, such as the drum gets. Jack Drum and 
Totn Drum were variations of the name (for the latter, cf. v. 3.316 be- 
low). Theo. quotes Holinshed, Hist, of Ireland: "so that his porter, or 
any other officer, durst not, for both his eares, give the simplest man that 



ACT HI. SCENE VI. 163 

resorted to his house, Tom Drum his entertayiiement, which is, to hale a 
man in by the heade, and thrust him out by both the shoulders ;" and 
Apollo S/irovifig, 162"] : "It shall have Tom Drum's entertainement : a 
flap with a fox-tail." Reed adds, from Taylor's Laugh and be Fat : 

"And whither now is Mons'" Odcome come, 

Who on his owne backe side receiv'd his pay? 
Not Hke the Entertainm' of Jacke Drum, 

Who was best welcome when he went away?" 

and Aston, Manners and Citstofns of All A^ations, 1611 : "Some others 
on the contrarie part, give them John Drum's intertainm' reviling and 
beating them away from their houses." These, and other passages 
quoted by the commentators, show that the expression came to mean 
other kinds of abusive treatment than beating. There was an interlude, 
printed in 1601, called Jack Drzit/i's Entertainment, in which Jack Drum 
is a servant who is continually being foiled in his attempts at intrigue. 
The title of this piece was of course suggested by the familiar phrase. 

37. Humour. The early eds. have "honor" or " honour," which may 
be defended as ironical ; but himioiir, which Theo. substituted, is adopt- 
ed by K., D., W,, and others, and may be what S. wrote. 

38. In any hand. In any case, at any rate. Cf at any hand in T. of 
S. i. 2. 147, 227, and of all hands in L. L. L. iv. 3. 219. Steevens quotes 
Holland's Pliny : " he must be a free citizen of Rome in any hand." 

55. Hie jacet. "Here lies; the usual beginning of epitaphs. I w-ould 
(says ParoUes) recover either the drum I have lost or another belonging 
to the enemy, or die tn the attempt'''' (M alone). 

56. If yon have a stomach, to '/*, Monsieur. If you have any inclination, 
try it. This is the pointing of the folio, which reads: "Why if you haue 
a stomacke, too 't Monsieur : if you thinke," etc. The editors generally 
(the Camb. ed. is the only exception we have noted) make it read thus : 
"Why, if you have a stomach to 't. Monsieur, if you think," etc. But cf. 
T. of S. i. 2. 195 : " But if you have a stomach, to 't i' God's name !" For 
the absolute use of stomach, see also M. of V. iii. 5. 92 : "let me praise 
you while I have a stomach ;" T. and 6'. ii. i. 137 : 



y. C.V.I. 66; 



"call some knight to arms 
That hath a s^tomach;" 

" If you dare fight to-day, come to the field ; 
If not, when you have stomachs,' etc. 



The Camb. ed. does not refer to the ordinary pointing in its collation of 
the texts. 

57. Mystery. Professional skill. Cf its use = craft, profession; as in 
M.for M. iv. 2. 30, 36, 39, 41, 44, T. of A. iv. i. 18, etc. 

66. Dilemmas. Plans for overcoming possible difficulties. S. uses the 
word only here and in M. W. iv. 5. 87 : "in perplexity and doubtful di- 
lemma." 

71. Success. Issue. See 0th. p. 186, or J. C. p. 151. Cf also i. 3. 237 
above. 

73. And to the possibility, etc. That is, he is confident that Parolles 



164 



NO TES. 



will do all a soldier can. He does not yet believe that the fellow is a 
coward. 

82. A great deal. It is exceptional to find this expression with a plural, 
but the idiom is said to be still a provincialism in England. Walker 
conjectures "discovery," but most of the editors retain discoveries. 

88. Embossed him. Cornered him, closed round him ; a hunting 
phrase. " To emboss a deer is to enclose him in a wood " (Johnson). Cf^ 
Lear, p. 213. 

91. Case. Skin, flay ; in other words, strip of his disguise. 

Smoked. Scented, smelt out ; as in iv, i. 25 below. Halliwell quotes 
Chapman, Hojner : " I alone smok't his true person." 

92. Sprat. The fish is a worthless little one, and hence the contempt- 
uous metaphor. Lilly, in his Book of Eortiine (quoted by Halliwell), 
speaks of " a sprat-brain'd ridiculous Tom Fool." 

94, Look 7ny twigs. Look at my limed twigs. See on iii. 5. 22 above. 
For the transitive look, see A. Y. L. p. 161, or Lear, p. 219. Gr. 200. 

loi. Have i' the ivind. Have got scent of. Cf 3 Hen. VI. iii. 2. 14: 
" He knows the game ; how true he keeps the wind !" See also Ha77i, 
p. 230, note on Recover the wind of me. 

Scene VH. — i. She. That is, his wife. She has been telling the 
Widow who she is, and what her plans are for recovering her husband. 

3. But I shall lose. That is, except I shall lose, without losing. She 
means that she does not know how to give farther proofs of her identity 
without the risk of discovering herself to Bertram. 

4. Though my estate be fallen. Though my condition in life is not so 
good as it once was. 

9. To your sworn counsel. That is, under pledge of secrecy. 

10. From word to tvord. " Word for word " (Z! N. i. 3. 28, etc.), exact- 
ly as I tell you. 

13. Approves. Proves; as often. See Macb. p. 174. 

18. His wanton siege. For the metaphor, cf. V. and A. 423 : 

" Remove your siege from my unyielding heart ; 
To love's alarms it will not ope the gate.'' 

See also M. W. ii. 2. 243, R. and J. i. i. 218, etc. 

21. Important blood. Importunate passion. See Much Ado, p. 129, or 
Lear, p. 241. 

22. County. Count. See Much Ado, p. 131. 
26. Li most rich choice. In highest estimation. 
7^//^=: inconsiderate, reckless. See on ii. 5. 47 above, 

34. After this. The ist folio omits this, which the 2d supplies. Coll. 
conjectures " afterwards." 

37. Persever. The only form in S. Cf iv. 2. 37 below, where it rhymes 
with ever. Gr. 492. 

40. Music. The folio has " Musickes," as in Cymb. ii. 3. 44, but most 
editors read music in both passages. The singular often meant a band 
of musicians. Cf. Hen. VIII. iv- 2. 94: 

"Bid the music leave; 
They are harsh and heavy to me." 



ACT IV. SCENE I. 



i65 



\\. Tt nothing steads us. It is of no use for us. For stead, see M, of V. 
p. 133, note on May yon stead me ? 

45. Is wicked meaning, etc. " Bertram's meaning is wicked in a lawful 
deed, and Helen's meaning is lawful in a lawful act ; and neither of them 
sin : yet on his part it was a sinful act, for his meaning was to commit 
adultery, of which he was innocent, as the lady was his wife" (Toilet). 
Hanmer changed Ajid lawful to "unlawful" and Warb. lawful act to 
"wicked act;" but this is not necessary to the solution of the enigma. 

47. Fact. According to Schmidt, the only meaning oi fact in S. is 
"evil deed, crime;" but in some cases, as here, it seems to be simply = 
the Latin /?<:///;«, deed. Cf. W, T. p. 175. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — 10. Linsey-woolsey. A mixed fabric of linen and wool ; here 
a metaphor for a medley of words without meaning. Cf. the figurative 
use oi fustian {0th. ii. 3. 282), likewise a kind of cloth. 

13. Sotne band of strangers, etc. "That is, foreign troops in the ene- 
my's pay" (Johnson). For entertainment, cf. iii. 6. 11 above. Stnack=- 
smattering. 

15. We mtist every one, etc. "We must each fancy a jargon for him- 
self, without aiming to be understood by one another ; for provided we 
appear to understand, that will be sufficient for the success of our proj- 
ect" (Henley). 6"/^//^-^/=^ directly, at once. 

18. Choughs'' hiJignage. That is, mere chattering. Steevens compares 
Temp. ii. i . 266 : 

" I myself could make 
A chough of as deep chat." 
See our ed. p. 127. 

24. Plansive. Plausible. Cf. i. 2. 53 above. 

37. Instance. Explained by Schmidt and others as = " motive" (as in 
Hen. V. ii. 2. 119, etc.), and by Johnson as =^" proof" (cf. A. V. L. p. 170), 
The latter seems to be the better meaning. He has said that slight 
hurts will not serve to confirm his story of his exploit, and great ones he 
dares not give. Wherefore, he asks, what is to sustain or prove my as- 
sertions.? In Much Ado, ii. 2. 42, Borachio says : "They will scarce be- 
lieve this without trial ; offer them instances " (that is, give them proofs) ; 
and here Parolles, wishing to "offer instances," asks himself what the 
instance is to be. 

38. Bafizefs mule. A troublesome beast for the critics. There may 
be a reference to some well-known story of the time, now lost ; or Warb. 
may have been right in changing the mule to a " mute." Cf. Ilefi. V. i. 
2. 232: "like Turkish mute." Steevens says that "in one of our old 
Turkish histories, there is a pompous description of Bajazet riding on a 
mule to the Divan ;" but how such a description could suggest borrow- 
ing a tongue of the mule, it is difficult to see. Reed finds a reference in 
Maitland to an apologue of a philosopher who " tooke upon him to make 
a Moyle speak." This on the face of it is a more promising clue ; but 



1 66 NOTES. 

Maitland does not give the story in full, and we have no means of know- 
ing whether Bajazet figured in it. The meaning obviously is that he 
must get rid of his own prattling tongue and buy one less loquacious. 
40. Is it possible, etc. See p. 13 above. 

43. Spanish sivord. Cf. R. and J. i. 4. 84 : " Spanish blades." The 
swords of Toledo were famous in that day. 

44. Afford you so. Afford to let you off so. 

45. Baring. Shaving; as in M.for M. iv. 2. 189: "Shave the head, 
and tie the beard ; and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so 
bared before his death." 

70. Thy faith. That is, religious faith. 

77. Inform something. Cf. Cor. i. 6. 42 : " He did inform the truth," 
etc. 

85. Woodcock. The bird was supposed to have no brains, and was 
therefore a popular metaphor for a fool. See Ham. pp. 191, 275. 

88. Itiform on that. Tell them about that. Clarke takes inform to 
be in the same construction as betray, but we have no doubt that it is 
imperative. The speaker thinks it a good joke that Parolles is going to 
betray them to themselves, and wants that Bertram and his brother 
should be informed of the sport in store for them. Rowe thought it nec- 
essary to change on to " 'em." 

Scene II.— 8. Stern. The Coll. MS. has "stone." Malone quotes 
Cymb, ii. 2. 32 : 

"And be her sense but as a monument 
Thus in a chapel Ijing!" 

14. My vcnvs. "Not only the vows in reference to Helena, alluded to 
in the sentence he wrote to his mother — 'sworn to make the not eternal ' 
— but the vows he is now proffering to Diana" (Clarke). 

17. Serve. There is a play upon the word. For a different one, see 
ii. I. 22 above. 

19. Barely. Changed by Rowe (2d ed.) to "basely;" but the repeti- 
tion in barely and bareness is thoroughly Shakespearian. 

25. God's. The ist and 2d folios have "loues," the 3d and 4th 
"Joves." Johnson's conjecture of " love's " is adopted by some editors ; 
but we have little doubt that S. wrote God''s, which was changed to 
"Jove's" in obedience to the statute against the use of the Divine name 
on the stage. This is the conjecture of Halliwell, and removes all diffi- 
culty from a much disputed passage. 

27. Holdiitg. "Consistency," according to Johnson and Schmidt, but 
it may be = binding force. This is confirmed by the nnseaPd that fol- 
lows. Such an oath, she says, is like a legal obligation wtibout the seal 
which makes it hold. 

36. Who. Changed by Pope to "which," but who is often used for 
"an irrational antecedent personified" (Gr. 264). The folios have "re- 
covers," which may be what S. wrote. Cf. Gr. 247. 

37. Per sever. See on iii. 7. 37 above. 

38. Make ropes in snch a scarrc. A hopelessly corrupt passage, which 
we leave as in the folios (the ist and 2d have "rope's," the others 



ACT IV. SCENE III. 167 

" ropes," and the 4th has " scar "). Ropes and scarre have been changed 
to "hopes . , . affairs," "hopes . . . scene," "hopes . . . scare," "hopes 
. . . war," "slopes . . . scarre" ( = cliff j, "hopes . . . case," "hopes . . . 
snare," "hopes . . . suit," "hopes . . . cause," "may cope's . . . sorte," 
etc. " Hopes in such a case " is as probable as any other of these, and 
doubtless gives the meaning of the passage, whatever may have been its 
precise wording. It may be noted that S. often uses the expression "in 
such a case ;" as in J. C. iv. 3. 6, Cor. v. 4. 34, R. and J. ii. 4. 54, A. and 
C. ii. 2. 98, etc. K. thinks that the old reading, though "startling and 
difficult," may be right after all : scarre may be used figuratively "for a 
difficulty to be overcome," and the ropes may be the means of overcom- 
ing it. But if a critic can " make ropes in such a scarre," what difficulty in 
the early texts may he not overcome ? 

42. Lo7iging. Belonging. Generally printed " 'longing," but not so in 
the folios, which are almost uniformly accurate on such points. See 
Hen. V. p. 160, or Hen. VIII p. 162. Cf. also Wb. 

49. Proper. The word simply emphasizes the 07un, as in 2 Hen. VI. \. 
I. 61, iii. I. 115, y. C. v. 3. 96, etc. It is often used alone in the sense of 
own ; as in Temp. iii. 3. 60 : "Their proper selves," etc. 

50. Champion. As the word was used in the da3's of chivalry, for a 
knight who fought for a person or a cause. Cf. K. John, iii. i. ilS, 255, 
267, Rich. II i. 2. 43, etc. On the present passage, cf. Milton, Cotniis^ 212 : 

" These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 
The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended 
By a strong-siding champion, Conscience." 

55. / '// order take. I '11 take measures. Cf. 2 Hen. IV. p. 177, or Oih. 
p. 206. 

56. Band. Bond; as in Rich. II. i. i. 2: "thy oath and band," etc. 
See our ed. p. 150. 

62. What in time proceeds. Whatever in the course of time may re- 
sult. 

71. Has. The reading of W. for the " had " of the folios. 

73. Braid. Deceitful. Steevens quotes Greene, Never Too Late, 1616, 
where it is a noun : 

"Dian rose with all her maids 
Blushing thus at Love his braids." 

Home Tooke (quoted by Malone) makes /^rrt-/^^" brayed," seeing an al- 
lusion to Prov. xxi. 20 ! Boswell thinks braid might possibly be " a con- 
traction for braided, that is, tzuisted,'' and compares the "■plaited cunning " 
oi lear, i. i. 183. See JV. T. p. 196, note on Uiibraided. Richardson, in 
his Diet., makes braid =\\o\^w\. ; but cf. Wb. Wedgwood connects it with 
the provincial braid- ^xtitnd, resemble (see Halliwell and Wright, Ar- 
chaic Diet.), and explains the passage thus : "since such are the manners 
of Frenchmen." Skeat, in his new Etymol. Diet., has nothing to say of 
the word. 

Scene HI.— 5. Worthy. W^ell deserved; as in Rich. II. v. i. 68: 
" worthy danger and deserved death," etc. 



1 68 NOTES. 

10. Darkly. Secretly. Cf. the quibble in M. for M. iii. 2. 188 : " The 
duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered ; he would never bring 
them to the light." 

14. Fleshes. Gratifies, satiates. Cf. 2 Hen. IV. iv. 5. 133 : 

" the wild dog 
Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent." 

16. Monumental. Memorial. 

17. Composition. Compact, bargain. 

18. Delay our rebellion. Keep us from such "natural rebellion" (v. 3. 
6), that is, letting our passions rebel against our reason and conscience. 

20. Merely our own traitors. Nothing but traitors to ourselves. See 
on iii. 5. 52 above. 

22. Their abhorred ends. We think this refers to their disgraceful death 
as traitors (as Coll. and St. explain it) rather than the ends they are aim- 
ing at, as Steevens and others have made it. Clarke believes it means 
" till they finally incur the abhorrence properly theirs, or which is their 
due." The whole passage may be paraphrased thus : As it is the com- 
mon course of treason to expose itself and lead to its own punishment, 
so he that is a traitor to his better self is overwhelmed in his own wick- 
edness, like one who is drowned in the flood he himself has let loose. 
Johnson explains in his proper stream o''e7-Jlo'ws hi?nself by " betrays his 
own secrets in his own talk ;" which seems rather an " impotent conclu- 
sion." Clarke carries out the interpretation of what precedes by making 
it = '*by his own revealments covers himself with opprobrium." 

25. Is it not meant damnable in us, etc. Does it not show a damnable 
meaning or disposition in us, etc. Schmidt puts it thus : " Is not our 
drift a damnable one?" Clarke thinks the idea is, "Does not Heaven 
ordain it for our own condemnation," etc. Coll., D., and W. adopt Han- 
mer's " most damnable," and V. reads " mean — damnable." Mason con- 
jectures "mean and damnable." For the adverbial use of damnable, cf. 
W. T. iii. 2. 188 ; "inconstant and damnable ungrateful." 

28. Dieted to his hour. Restricted to his appointed hour, like one un- 
der a fixed regimen. See on v. 3. 219 below. 

30. Company. Companion ; referring to Parolles. See Hen. V. p. 145. 
That he might take, etc. " This is a very just and moral reason. Ber 

tram, by finding how erroneously he has judged, will be less confident, 
and more easily moved by admonition" (Johnson). 

31. So curiously he had set this counterfeit. The metaphor is taken 
from setting a counterfeit gem. Cf. Rich. III. v. 3. 25 1 : 

" A base foul stone made precious by the foil 
Of England's chair, where he is falsely set." 

Curiously = czxtiuWy ; as in T of S. iv. 3. 144: "curiously cut," etc. Cf. 
curious in i. 2. 20 above. 

39. Higher. Farther up into Italy. 

46. Sanctimony. Sanctity, devotion ; as in 7! a7id C. v. 2. 140: "If 
sanctimony be the god's delight." We find the modern sense only in 
Oth. i. 3. 362. 

50. Justified. Proved. Cf. Temp. v. i. 128 : " I could justify you trai- 
tors," etc. 



ACT IV. SCENE Ilf. 



69 



51. The stronger part. The more important part ; that is, all the facts 
except her death. The Coll. MS. has "stranger." 

71. Solemn. Formal, ceremonious. Cf. ii. 3. 179 above. 

80. By an abstract of success. " By a successful summary proceeding " 
(Schmidt). 

81. Congied with. Taken leave of. Many of the modern eds. print 
"conge'd." In Armin's Nest of Ninnies, 1608, we find the noun spelt 
congy : " Sir William, with a low congy, saluted him." 

89. This dialogue between the fool and the soldier. Perhaps alluding, as 
Coll. suggests, to some popular production of the time. 

90. This counterfeit tnodiile. '■^Module being the. patteryi of any thing, 
may be here used in that sense : Bring forth this fellow, who, by counterfeit 
virtue, pretended to make himself a pattern^'' (Johnson). Module occurs 
again in K. John, v. 7. 58 : " And module of confounded royalty." See 
our ed. p. 180. In both passages many modern eds. print " model." 

Like a donble-nieaning prophesier. Steevens misquotes Macb. v. 8. 20 : 

"That palter with us in a double sense, 
That keep the word of promise to our ear 
And break it to our hope." 

94. Usurping his spurs. Wearing the spurs of a knight when he was 
really a coward. There may be an allusion to the punishment of a recreant 
knight by hacking off his spurs. 

103. A^othing of nie, has a\ Bertram's fear that Parolles may have told 
something to compromise him is a slight but very significant touch of 
dramatic art. 

109. Hoodman conies I The game now called blindman's-buff used to 
be known as "hoodman-blind." Baret, in his Alvearie, mentions it as 
"The Hoodwinke play, or hoodmanblinde, in some places called the 
blindmanbuf." Cf. Hani. iii. 4. 77. 

126. Take the sacrament on V. Take my oath on it. See Rich. II. p. 
207, or K. John, p. 172. 

128. All 'j one to him. The folios give these words to Parolles ; but 
Capell saw that they belong to Bertram. Rowe followed the old arrange- 
ment, changing him to " me." Ritson conjectured that the sentence be- 
longed to the 1st or 2d Lord. 

130. Militarist. Undoubtedly his own phrase, for it is not found else- 
where. 

131. Theoric. Changed by Rowe to "theory ;" but cf Hen. V. i. i. 52 
and 0th. \. 1.24. Malone quotes Florio's Montaigne: "They know the 
theorique of all things, but you must seek who shall put it in practice." 

132. Chape. The metallic part at the end of the scabbard (Schmidt). 
We find chapeless in T. of S. iii. 2. 48. 

133. I will never, etc. Perhaps this belongs to Bertram (Walker). 
140. Co7i him no thanks. Do not thank him. Cf. T. of A. iv. 3.428: 

" Yet thanks I must you con," etc. Steevens cites many examples of the 
phrase from contemporaneous writers. Iji the nature he delivers it — 'n\ 
the way he tells it ; that is, since it is for a treacherous purpose. 

148. Live this present hour. This must mean live only this present 
hour, and Hanmer's " but this " is a plausible emendation. Walker con- 



lyo 



NOTES. 



jectures " die " for live, and St. " leave." Toilet and Clarke think ihe slip 
is meant to show the speaker's perturbation of mind. 

159. Condition. Character ; as in M. of V. i. 2. 143, etc. 

167. To the particular of the inter' gator ies. To the questions one by 
one, or asked singly. For the form inter'' gatories, see M. of V. p. 165. 

171. Johnson inserts here the stage-direction: '■'' Dumaiti lifts up his 
hand in anger."" 

172. Though. Explained by Clarke as— ."as, since, for the reason 
that ;" but it has its ordinary meaning. Let him alone, he says, though 
it will be but a brief respite for him. In Whitney's Emblems, a book 
probably known to S., there is a story of three women who threw dice to 
ascertain which should die first. The loser was disposed to laugh at the 
decrees of Fate ; when she was instantly killed by the accidental falling 
of a tile (Douce). 

178. Lordship. The folios have "Lord," which was probably the ab- 
breviation in the MS., or the printer's interpretation of the shorter abbre- 
viation " Lo." It was corrected by Pope. 

184. /« good sadness. In all seriousness. Cf AT. W. iii. 5. 125, iv. 2. 
93, T. of S. V. 2. 64, etc. See also R. and J. p. 144. 

192. Dian, the count 'j a fool, etc. Johnson supposes a line to be lost, 
as there is no rhyme to the gold. Steevens conjectures " golden store " 
or "ore." But the beginning of the letter may have been prose, as Ma- 
lone suggests ; or it may be only an instance of the poet's carelessness in 
these little matters. 

\()\. Advertisement. Advice, admonition. See I A''^;/. /f^. p. 181. Proper 
=honest ; as in 2 Hen. IV. ii. 2. 169: "A proper gentlewoman." 

197. Idle. See on ii. 5. 47 above. 

206. Half won, etc. "A match well made is half won; make your 
match, therefore, but make it well " (Mason). 

209. Mell. Meddle, have to do ; used by S. nowhere else. Pope 
changed not to " but ;" but the antithesis is only between men and boys, 
not between mell and Jciss, though the former may imply more than the 
latter. That ifiell was used in the general sense of meddling, Malone 
shows by quoting Hall, Satires, 1597: "Hence, ye profane! mell not 
with holy things;" and Spenser, F. Q. i. i. 30 (which he misquotes): 
" With holy father fits not with such things to mell." He might have 
added Id. vii. 7. 9 : 

" So hard it is for any living wight 
All her array and vestiments to tell, 
That old Dan Geffrey (in whose gentle spright, 
The pure well head of Poesie did dwell) 
In his Foules parley durst not with it mel," etc. 

Cf also Florio, Second Frutes : 

"Who with a Tuscan hath to mell, 
Had need to hear and see full well." 

210. Count of Take note of. Cf T. G. of V. ii. i. 65 : "no man counts 
of her beauty." 

211. When. The Coll. MS. has "where." 

216. Armipotent. Cf L. L. L. v. 2. 650: "The armipotent Mars." 



ACT IV. SCENE IV. jyj 

Hallivvell cites Fairfax, Godfrey of Boidogiie : " If our God, the Lord 
armipotent ;" and ^yXvtsitx, Bu Bartas : "Armi-potent, omnipotent, my 
God." 

217. A cat. Cf. M. of F. iv. i. 48 : " Some, that are mad if they behold 
a cat," 

219. The generaVs. The ist and 2d folios have "your" for the; cor- 
rected in the 3d folio. 

229. An egg out of a cloister. " He will steal any thing, however tri- 
fling, from any place, however holy" (Johnson). 

230. N'essns. Alluded to again in A. and C. iv. 12.43. 

244. Before the English tragedians. The companies of strolling play- 
ers used to announce their advent by a drum or trumpet. Cf. T. of S. 
ind. I. 74, where the "trumpet" that is heard is found to be that of the 
"players." 

247. Mile-end. Where the citizens of London used to be mustered 
and drilled. See 2 Hen. IV. p. 179, note on Mile-end Green. 

248. Doubling of files. Marching in double file. 

252. He V a cat still. " The way in which Bertram returns and returns 
to the same expression of antipathy to Parolles is characteristically indic- 
ative of his fidgety egotism and bad-tempered vexation" (Clarke). 

255. Quart d'ecu. The quarter of a " French crown." See on ii. 2.20 
above. In the ist folio the spelling is " cardceue ;" corrected in the 2d 
into "cardecue," which was the "phonetic" orthography of the time. 
Cf. v. 2. 31 below, where all the early eds. have "cardecue." 

Fee-simple. Unconditional possession. This and the legal terms that 
follow are to be reckoned among the many illustrations of Shakespeare's 
minute knowledge of the law. A remainder is "something limited over 
to a third person on the creation of an estate less than that which the 
grantor has." See also Wb. Some such word as " secure " or " ensure " 
anpears to be implied (Clarke thinks it may have dro])ped out) before a 
ferpetual succession. The meaning obviously is, sell the fee-si?nple and 
make it free from all possible conditions or limitations. 

259, Why does he ask him of me? "This is nature. Every man is, on 
such occasions, more willing to hear his neighbour's character than his 
own" (Johnson). 

272. Beguile the supposition. "That is, to deceive the opinioti, to make 
the Count think me a man that deserves well'''' (Johnson). 

295. Undone. There is a quibble on the word ; as in Much Ado, v. 
4. 20. 

302. Great. The quibble on the literal and figurative senses is obvious. 
For the latter, cf. A. Y. L. ii. 6. 4: " Why, how now, Adam ! no greater 
heart in thee .'"' 

On the passage, see p. 13 above. 

305. Simply the thing I am, tic. " It would be difficult to match this 
little sentence for pithy expression — a world of satire upon meanness of 
soul compressed into nine brief words" (Clarke). 

Scene IV. — 4. Perfect. Accented on the first syllable, as regularly 
in S. 



172 NOTES. 

6. Which. Hanmer inserted "for" before which; but the ellipsis is 
not unlike many others in S. Cf. Gr. 382 fol. 

7. Flinty Tartar's bosom. Cf. M. of V. iv. I. 32 : 

"From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, 
From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train' d 
To offices of tender courtesy." 

9. Marseilles. A trisyllable; as in T of S. ii. I. 377: "That now is 
lying in Marseilles road." See our ed. p. 148. S. uses the word only 
twice in verse. Here it is spelt " Marcellae " in the ist folio, " Marsellis" 
in the 2d and 3d, and " Marselis " in the 4th. 

II. Breakitig. Disbanding. Elsewhere we have break up ; as in 2 
Hen. IV. iv. 2. 104, J. C. ii. 2. 98, etc. 

16. YoJi. The 1st, 2d, and 3d folios have "your." 

20. Motive. Agent, instrument. Ci. Rich.//.\. i. 193, where the tongue 
is called "The slavish motive of recanting fear." In 7'. and C. iv. 5. 57 
("every joint and motive of her body") it is = moving part. 

23. Saucy. Some explain the word as= wanton, lascivious, and cf. M. 
for A/, u. 4. 4^, but in both passages it may be = impudent, insolent 
(Schmidt). 

Clarke paraphrases the sentence thus : " When, by permitting the be- 
guiled imagination to rove forbiddenly, the darkness of night is made 
blacker;" and he adds: "This wandering away of Helena's thoughts 
into reverie (for the whole of this sentence is spoken to herself, rather 
than to her hearers) even while she is commenting upon excursive fan- 
cies, is, to our thinking, intensely fine and true to human nature, particu- 
larly under these special circumstances." 

29. Impositions. Injunctions, commands ; as in M. of V. i. 2. 1 14 : " your 
father's imposition," etc. 

30. Yet I pray yon ; But, etc. This is the reading and pointing of 
the folio (except that it has a colon instead of a semicolon) ; followed 
by D., K., v., the Camb. ed., Clarke, and others. D. paraphrases the pas- 
sage thus : " For a while, I pray you, be mine to suffer ; but, so quickly 
that it may even be considered as true while we speak, the time will, etc." 
We are inclined to think that Yet, I pray yoic merely serves to resume 
the thread of discourse after Diana's impulsive interruption, and that 
Helena then goes on to add the more hopeful words she intended to add 
— as the '■'■ yet must suffer something'''' seems to imply. Coll. adopts Black- 
stone's conjecture of " Yet I fray you But with the word ;" that is, " I 
only frighten you by mentioning the word suffer.'''' W. reads " Yet I 
pay you But with the word " = " Yet (in my present circumstances) I 
pay you but with the word (or, as we say, ' with words '), but time will 
bring on a season when that which produces you now only trouble will 
produce you profit and pleasure." The Coll. MS. has " I pray you : But 
with the world," etc. See also Gr. 76. 

34. Revives. Changed by Hanmer to " reviles," and by Warb. to " re- 
vyes," which he explains as " looks us in the face, calls upon us to hasten." 
W. adopts Johnson's conjecture of " invites," which is the best emenda- 
tion, if any be necessary ; but revives (=gives us fresh energy) seems in 
keeping with the context. 



ACT IV. SCENE V. 



173 



The -ivagon is probably, as K. suggests, a public vehicle. Coaches 
are mentioned in L. L. I^. (iv. 3. 34, 155), M. of V. (iii. 4. 82), M. W. (ii. 2. 
66), and Hiwi. (iv. 5. 71), which are earlier plays. Stow speaks oi long 
wagons for passengers and goods in 1564. As late as 1660, we find from 
Sir William Dugdale's Diary that his daughter " went towards London 
in Coventre waggon." 

35. All 'x well, etc. " One of Camden's proverbial sentences " (Malone). 

The fine 'x the crown. As Boswell remarks, this seems to be a transla- 
tion of the Latin proverb. Finis coronal opus. Vox fine=t\\d, cf. Much Ado, 
i. I. 247, Ham. v. I. 115, etc. We still use in fine. 

Scene V. — i. With. By ; as often. Gr, 193. 

A snipt-taffeta fello'cv. " A fellow who wore a rag or patch of taf- 
feta " (Schmidt) ; or, quite as likely, a fellow dressed in "slashed silk," 
alluding to "the 'scarfs' and fluttering ribbons that ParoUes wears, which 
have been several times referred to in the course of the play" (Clarke). 
For tafifeta, cf ii. 2. 20 above. 

2. Whose villanons saffron, etc. This is either an allusion to the use 
of yellow starch for linen, or to the colouring of paste for pies with saffron 
(which the context favours); or perhaps, as Warb. suggests, S. was led 
from the one allusion into the other as he wrote. Schmidt thinks the 
reference may be simply " to the fashionable custom of wearing yellow." 
For the colouring of starches, Warb. cites Fletcher, Queen of Corinth : 
"your yellow starch;" and B. J., The Devil's an Ass: "Carmen and 
chimney-sweepers are got into the yellow starch ;" and Steevens adds, 
among other passages, Stubbes, Anat.of Alnises, 1595 : " The one arch or 
piller wherewith the devils kingdome of great ruffes is underpropped, is 
a certain kind of liquid matter which they call startch, wherein the devill 
hath learned them to wash and die their ruffes, which, being drie, will 
stand stiff and inflexible about their neckes. And this startch they make 
of divers substances, sometimes of wheate flower, of branne, and other 
graines : sometimes of rootes, and sometimes of other things ; of all 
collours and hues, as white, redde, blewe, purple, and the like." For the 
use of saffron in pastry, cf. W. T. iv. 3. 48 : "I must have saffron to colour 
the warden pies." 

The meaning of the passage, as Malone remarks, is : " Whose evil 
qualities are of so deep a dye as to be sufficient to corrupt the most in- 
nocent, and to render them of the same disposition with himself." There 
is, however, a touch of contemptuousness in nnbaked and doughy youth 
which this paraphrase does not bring out. 

7. I had. Changed by Hanmer (the conjecture of Theo.) to "he had;" 
but this is unnecessary. The Countess wishes that she had never known 
him as a visitor at her house and a friend of her son. 

14. Sweet marjoram. The herb {Origanum marjorana) still known by 
that name, and still familiar in our kitchens. Cf W. T. p. 190. 

15. Herb of grace. That is, rue {Ruta graveolens). Cf Rich. II. iii. 4. 
105 : " I '11 set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace ;" and Ham. iv. 5. 181 : 
" There 's rue for you ; ... we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays." 
See Ham. p. 251. 



174 



NOTES. 



i6. Herbs. That is, herbs in the sense in which he (Lafeu) has just 
used the word, or salad herbs. Rowe thought it necessary to read " sal- 
let-herbs " (" sallet " is the spelling of the old eds. here, as often else- 
where), and the Coll. MS. has " pot-herbs." 

i8. Grass. Spelt "grace " in the early eds., perhaps to mark the play 
on grass and grace. 

19. Whether dost thou, etc. Cf. K. John, i. I, 134: "Whether hadst 
thou rather be a Faulconbridge," etc. See also Matt. xxii. 31. 

32. An English name. Alluding to the Black Prince ; as the latter 
part of the sentence does to his achievements in France, where, as the 
Clown hints, the other black prince is also more active. P'or name the 
folios have "maine," "main," or "mean ;" corrected by Rowe. Henley 
would retain "main," as referring to the devil's "thick head of hair." 
Coll. says: "Of old the devil was represented in miracle-plays and mo- 
ralities as covered with hair ; and hence his name of ' Old Hairy,' which 
has been corrupted in our day to ' Old Harry.' " 

Eisnomy. S. uses physiognomy only in R. of L. 1 395. Hanmer 
changed hotter to "honoured." For the double comparative, see Gr. 11. 

38. Suggest. Tempt, "seduce " (Rowe's "emendation " in his 2d ed.). 
Cf. suggestion in iii. 5. 16 above. 

41. But, sure, he is, etc. Changed by Hanmer to "But since he is," 
etc. 

45. The floivery way, etc. Cf. Macb. ii. 3. 21 : "the primrose way to 
the everlasting bonfire." 

51. Jades' tricks. Cf. Much Ado, i. i. 145: "You always end with 
a jade's trick;" and T. and C ii. I. 21 : "a red murrain o' thy jade's 
tricks !" 

53. Unhappy. "Mischievously waggish, unlucky" (Johnson). Cf. 
unhappiness in Much Ado, ii. i. 361 ; and see our ed. p. 134. For shrewd, 
see on iii. 5. 65 above. 

57. Pace. " A certain or prescribed walk ; so we say of a man meanly 
obseq-iious, that he has learned his paces, and of a horse who \sic\ moves 
irregularly, that he has no paces " (Johnson). Cf. the verb in M.for M. 
iv. 3. 137 : 

" Tf you can, pace your wisdom 
In that good path that 1 would wish it go." 

Hanmer reads " place." 

67. Content. Often used by S. in a stronger sense than at present. 
See 0th. p. 174, 

85. Tzoo pile and a half. Alluding to the quality of the velvet. Cf. 
W. T. iv. 3. 14: "and in my time wore three-pile ;" and see our ed. p. 
184. 

87. A scar, etc. In the 1st folio this speech is given to '' Laf ;"" in the 
later folios to "Za.," which Rowe and some other editors have taken to 
be = "Lady," or Countess. The 2d folio gives the next speech but one 
to "Za.," but there it is unquestionably = Lafeu. 

88. Belike. It is likely, it would seem. 

89. Carbonadoed. Cut across like a carbonado, or a slice of meat pre- 
pared for the gridiron. See W. T. p. 198, or i Hen. IV. p. 201. 



ACT V. SCENES /. AiVD If. 17^ 



ACT V. 



Scene I. — 4. Wear. Wear out, weary. Cf. A. V. L. ii. 4. 38 : " Wear- 
ing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise ;" and see our ed. p. 158. 

5. Bold. Confident, assured ; as in Cymb. ii, 4. 2 : 

" I would I were so sure 
To win the king as I am bold her honour 
Will remain hers." 

6. /;/ happy time. Just in time, opportunely. Cf. R. and J. p. 195. 

7. Enter a Gentleman. The ist folio has '' Enter a gentle A stringer'''' 
{" A stranger''^ in 2d folio), and the 3d and 4th folios " Enter a Gentle- 
mujt a stratiger.'''' Astringer, which some modern eds. retain, means a 
falconer, Steevens says that it is derived from ostercus or austercus, a 
goshawk, and cites Cowell, Law Diet.: " We usually call a falconer, who 
keeps that kind of hawk, an austringer." The word occurs nowhere in 
the text of S., and it is very doubtful whether he used it here. More 
likely it got into the folio by some mistake (the MS. may have read 
'■'' Enter a gent, a stranger'''') ; or possibly the "astringer " was introduced 
by the stage manager for some reason or other. The play in the folio 
was probably set up from a manuscript used in the theatre. It is to be 
noted that in the folio the speeches given to the "Astringer" all have 
the prefix " Gent.,'''' and that when he enters again (v. 3. 128 below) he is 
called "a Gentleman." 

14. With. By. See on iv. 5. i above. 

15. A'ice. Punctilious, scruinilous. 

24. Use. Custom, habit. Cf. 0th. iv. i. 285 : " Is it his use.^" etc. 

25. All 'j zvell, etc. Cf. iv. 4. 35 above. 

35, Onr means will make us means. As Johnson remarks, " S. delights 
much in this kind of reduplication, sometimes so as to obscure his mean- 
ing." Here no explanation is necessary. Cf i. 2. 64, ii. i. 124, 160, and 
iv. 2. 19 above. 

37. Falls. Befalls, comes to pass; as in v. 3. 121 below 

Scene II. — i. Lavache. " Lavatch " in the folios. A writer in N'otes 
and Queries, May 9, 1863, thinks that in the name {=la vache, the cow) 
S. "made a punning allusion to the name of the actor who jilayed the 
part, that is, to Richard Cowley, or John Lowine (lowing) ;" but this is 
not very probable. Clarke suggests that "it may have been intended 
for Lavage, which, in familiar French language, is used to exjiress 'slop,' 
'puddle,' 'washiness.'" He adds: "However this may be, there is ir- 
resistible drollery, as well as fine satire, in making Parolles — who for- 
merly treated the Clown with magnificent toleration — now address him 
by the title oi Monsieur, give him his name, and call him sir.''' 

4. Mood. Changed by Theo. to " moat." Mood is elsewhere = anger ; 
as in T. G. of V. iv. i. 51, C. of E. ii. 2. 172, Lfen. V. iv. 7. 38, 0th. ii. 3. 274, 
etc. V. notes the pun on mood and mud. 

8. Allow the zvind. Let me get to windward of thee. 
14. Me. The "dativus ethicus." Or. 220. 



176 NOTES. 

18. Piirr. A suspicious word. Mason conjectured "puss," which of 
course necessitated dropping the second of, to say nothing of the sense- 
less repetition in cat. It is curious \.\\-^i piiss does not occur in S. 

23. Similes. The folios have "smiles;" corrected by Theo. (at the 
suggestion of Warb.). Some editors retain "smiles ;" and Clarke takes 
"my smiles of comfort" to be "a facetious whimsicality of the Clown's, 
equivalent to 'my comfortable jests,' 'my comforting playfulness.'" In 
I y/^«. /K i. 2. 89, the quartos and the ist folio misprint "smiles" for 
similes. 

31. Quart d''ecu. See on iv. 3. 255 above. 

38. A word. The ist and 2d folios have simply "word," and the 3d 
and 4th " one word." The reading in the text is that of the Egerton 
MS., and is adopted by Coll., W., and others. There seems to be a play 
on Parolles ( = words). 

Cox my passion I A corruption of " God 's my passion !" Cf. T. of S. 
iv. I. 121 : "Cock's passion, silence !" See also 2 He7i. IV. p. 195, note 
on By cock and pie. 

40. Found me. See on ii. 3. 205 above. 

42. In some grace. Into some favour. For in, see Gr. 159. 

48. Though yon are a fool, etc. "This is just one of Shakespeare's 
own touches. It is not only true to his large spirit of toleration for hu- 
man frailties, that the old nobleman should save the wretch from starv- 
ing, notwithstanding his strong disgust for his character ; but it is an in- 
genuity of dramatic art thus to provide that Parolles shall be at hand, 
when the final scene of the story takes place at Rousillon, to appear 
among the other personages of the play" (Clarke). 

Scene III. — i. Esteem. " Dr. Warburton, in Theobald's edition, al- 
tered this word to estate ; in his own he lets it stand, and explains it by 
worth or estate. But esteem is here reckoning or estimate. Since the loss 
of Helen, with her virtues and qnalificaiions, our account is sunk ; what 
we have to reckon ourselves king of is xVi\xQ)c\. poorer than before" (John- 
son). 

4. Her estimation home. Her worth thoroughly. Cf Cor. ii. 2. 107 ; 
" I cannot speak him home ;" and see Ham. p. 232, on Tax him home. 

5. To make it, etc. To consider it, etc. 

6. Natural rebellion. The rebellion of nature. For blaze the early 
eds. have "blade" (corrected by Warb.), a figure which S. does not use, 
and which would be out of place here. For the metaphor here, cf. Ham. 
iii. 4. 82 : 

" Rebellious hell, 
If thou cnnst mutine in a matron's bones, 
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, 
And melt in her own fire." 

See also iii. 7. 26 and iv. 2. 5 above. V. and W. retain and defend 
" blade." 

10. Were high bent. The metaphor is taken from the bending of a 
bow. Cf Micch Ado, p. 139, note on Have their full betit. 

17. Richest eyes. Probably = eyes that have seen the most; as Stee- 



ACT V. SCENE IH. 



77 



vens, Scl midt, and others explain it. d. A. Y. L. iv. i. 24: "to have 
seen much and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands." 

22. Repetition. That is, repetition or renewal of our resentment ; or 
we may explain it as "remembrance," as Schmidt does. Clarke makes 
it = " recrimination." Cf. K. JoJin, p. 144, note on lll-tiined repetitions. 

32. A day of season. "Such a day as one would expect at the present 
time of year" (Schmidt) ; or simply "a seasonable day" (Malone). 

36. High-repented. Deeply repented. The hyphen is not in the early 
eds. 

40. Quick'' St. For contracted superlatives in S., see Gr. 473. Cf. ii. 1. 
160 above. 

41. Inatcdible and noiseless. As Clarke notes, the double epithets, 
seemingly redundant, "serve impressively to emphasize the never-heard 
but ever-felt pace of Time's foot." 

48. Perspective. A glass for producing an optical illusion. See Rich. 
II. p. 180. The accent of the word is always on the first syllable in S. 
Cf. Gr. 492. 

57. Covipt. Account. Cf. Macb. i. 6. 26, 0th. v. 2. 273, etc. 

65. Our own love, etc. This is one of the "obelized" passages in the 
Globe ed. Some critics believe the couplet to be the inteipolation of a 
player. Johnson was inclined to read "slept" for "sleeps" ("Z^zv 
cries to see what was done while hatred slept, and suffered mischief to be 
done"), but thought the meaning might be that ''hatred still continues to 
sleep at ease, while love is weeping." Coll.adoi)ts Mason's conjecture of 
"old" for own. Clarke takes our own to be = "juster, more consistent 
with our spiritual perception," and paraphrases the passage thus : " Our 
juster (or more conscientious) love, waking too late to a perception of 
the worth of the lost object, deplores the mischief done, while unjust hate 
is laid asleep (or extinguished) forever after." V. explaiiis it as follows : 
" Our love, awaking to the worth of the lost object, too late laments ; our 
shameful hate or dislike having slept out the period when our fault was 
remediable." If the original reading is correct, this interpretation, though 
not entirely satisfactory, is perhaps to be preferred to any of the others. 

68. Matidliii. Magdalen, of which it is a colloquial form. For the 
connection with the adjective maudlin, see \Vb. 

71. Which better, etc. This speech in the folios is a continuation of the 
preceding. Theo. first transferred it to the Countess, to whom it evi- 
dently belongs. 

72. Cesse. Cease. The ist folio has cesse, the 2d "ceasse," the 3d 
" ceass," and the 4th " cease." Cf. Spenser, /'. Q. iv. 9. 2 : 

" For naturall affection soone doth cep;se, 
And quenched is with Cupids greater flame : 
But faithfull friendship doth them both suppresse," etc. 

Halliwell cites sundry examples oi cesse ; as, for instance, Diaer, ^;/^/</.* 

" This spoken with a thought he makes the swelling; seas to cesse 
And sun to shine, and chjuds to flee, tliat did the skies oppresse."' 

74. Digested. That is, absorbed. 

7«9. The last, etc. The last time that I ever took leave of her, etc. 

M 



178 NOTES. 

85. Necessitied fo help. In need of help. In what follows there is one 
of the "changes of construction " so common in S. The sense obviously 
is : I bade her, if she needed help, [to ask for it, assiired\ that I would 
give it. Cf. Gr. 415. 

86. Reave. Bereave, deprive. Cf V. and A. 766: "Or butcher-sire 
that reaves his son of life." The participle reft is still in use, at least in 
poetical style. 

^1. Stead her. Be of use to her, help her. Cf. iii. 7. 41 above. 

93. ht Florence, etc. " Here is one of Count Bertram's ready false- 
hoods, which he, with the fluency of an expert liar, pours forth, with self- 
condemnatory ease. Though he did not know that the ring belonged to 
Helena, he knew that it was not given to him under the circumstances 
he describes with so much affected precision of detail ; and that very 
throwing from a window, wrapping in paper, and nobleness of the throw- 
er, by which he seeks to give an appearance of verisimilitude to his tale, 
serves to prove its untruth, and to convict himself of being altogether un- 
true" (Clarke). 

96. Engaged. "The plain meaning is, when she saw me receive the 
ring, she thought me engaged to her" (Johnson). The folios have "in- 
gag'd," which Malone took to be = unengaged. Schmidt explains it in 
the same way, and considers the change to engaged "preposterous." 
Theo. substituted " ungag'd." W. adopts Johnson's explanation, but re- 
tains "ingag'd,"by which he thinks "the idea is better conveyed." 

Siibscrilid To my ozvii fortune. " Acknowledged, confessed the state 
of my affairs " (^Schmidt) ; or perhaps j-z/^Jij-^r^//^/— submitted, as in T. ofS. 
i. I. 81, etc. 

99. As. For that . . . as, cf. y. C. i. 2. 33, 174, Lear, i. 4. 63, etc. See 
Gr. 280. 

100. Ti heavy satisfaction. In sorrowful acquiescence ; sadly yielding 
to what she was convinced could not be helped. 

loi. Plutus himself etc. " Plutus, the grand alchemist, who knows the 
tinctnre which confers the properties of gold upon other metals, and the 
matter by which gold is nuiltiplied, by which a small quantity of gold is 
made to communicate its qualities to a large mass of base metal. In the 
reign of Henry IV. a law was made to forbid all men thenceforth to mnl- 
iiply gold, or use any craft of multiplication ; of which law Mr. Boyle, 
when he was warm with the hope of transmutation, procured a repeal " 
(Johnson). For the allusion to the "grand elixir" of the alchemists, cf. 
A. and C. i. 5. 37 : 

" that great medicine hath 
With his tinct gilded thee." 

On Plufi/s, the old god of wealth, cf. T. and C. iii. 3. 197, J. C. iv. 3. 102, 
and T.ofA. i. i. 287. 

105. If you know, etc. "If you know \.h:\.\. your faculties are so sound 
as that you have the proper consciousness of your own actions, and are 
able to recollect and relate 7vhat you have done, tell me, etc." (Johnson). 

112. Upon her great disaster. In case some great disaster had befallen 
her. 

117. Deadly. Adjectives in -ly are often used as adverbs. Cf. Gr. i. 



ACT V. SCENE III. lyg 

121. Afy fore-past proofs, etc. ** The proofs zvhich I have already had 
are sufficient to show that my fears were not vain and irrational, I have 
rather been hitherto more easy than I ought, and have iinreasonably had 
too little fear'''' (Johnson). Tax (cf. i. i. 6i above) is not elsewhere joined 
with of 

127, Where yet she never was. That is, never yet was. For the trans- 
position ol yet, see Gr. 76. 

128. Enter a Gentleman. This is the stage - direction in the folios; 
changed by W. to '■'■Enter the Astringer.^'' See on v. I. 7 above. 

131. Reniozies. Post-stages. The meaning is, that she has failed to 
overtake the king in his journey, and thus missed the opportunity of pre- 
senting it in person. 

136. Importing. Full of meaning, significant. 

137. A siveet verbal brief. The phrase seems to us exactly to describe 
itself and many others like it in the poet's language — condensed ''sweet- 
ness and light " — " infinite riches in a little room." 

145. Capilet. The spelling of the early eds., changed by Rowe ai.d 
many other editors to " Capulet." 

146. Toll for this. The 1st folio has ''toule for this;" the later 
folios read "tcnile him for this." Some editors have taken the mean- 
ing to be "look upon him as a dead man ;" but toll is probably the legal 
term = " pay a tax for the liberty of selling." W. reads "and towl [him]. 
For this," etc.; that is, "whip him up and down the fair." l^oiuling is 
defined in Hallivvell and Wright's Archaic Diet, as "whipping horses up 
and down at a fair, a boy's mischievous amusement." The other explana- 
tion is favoured by the context: I will buy me a son-in-law at a fair, and 
try to find a customer for this ; I '11 none of him. Sr. quotes Hudibras : 

"a roan gelding, 
Where, when, by whom, and what were ye sold for, 
And in the public market toH'd for." 

There were two statutes to regulate the tolling of horses at fairs. 

153. Sith. Since ; an old fc)rm which S. uses some twenty times. See 
Ham. pp. 2or, 246, 253 ; antl cf. sithence in i. 3. 1 10 above. The 1st folio 
has here "sir, sir, wiues are monsters ;" changed in the 2d to "sir, wiues 
are such monsters" ("so monstrous" in 3d and 4th). The correction in 
the text is due to D. " Since," "sin," and " for " are other readings. 

Lordship. "Conjugal right and duty" (Schmidt). Cf. M. N. D. p. 
127, note on 8r. 

154. And that. And sith that. Gr. 285 (cf. 287). 

162. Both shall cease. That is, both my life and honour will perish. 
176. Eond. Foolish, silly; as very often. Sec M. of V. p. 152, or 
M. N. D. p. 163. The Camb. ed. misprints " this a fond." 

179. For to. Not uncommon in the Elizabethan writers. See Gr. 152. 

180. To friend. Cf. J. C. iii. I. 143 : " I know that we shall have him 
well to friend." See also Macb. p. 238. Gr. 189. 

"86. Gamester. Harlot ; as in Per. iv. 6. 81. On commoner below, 
which has the same meaning, cf. 0th. p. 200. 

190. Validity. Value ; as in T. A\ i. i. 12, R. and J. iii. 3. 33, etc. 
193. //. The folios have "hit;" corrected by Capell. D., Coll., K., 



i8o NOTES. 

and some other editors prefer Pope's "his." So far as the sense is con- 
cerned, there is small choice between the two ; but " hit " is the old form 
of //, and is found elsewhere in the early eds. W. considers that it " has 
even some claim to be retained in the text." Malone conjectured "is 
hit " for V is it, and Henley " 't is fit." 

194. Of. By. Gr. 170. 

196. Oioed. Owned. See on ii. i. 9 above, and cf, 292 below. 

203. Quoted. Noted, set down. See K. John, p. 167. 

204. Vox tax'd, cf. 121 and i. i. 61 above ; and for debosJid, ii. 3. 137. 
209. Boarded. Addressed, wooed. See Much Ado, p. 130, or Ham. 

p. 204. 

211. Madding. S. does not use tnadden. Cf Lear, p. 236. 

212. Fancy'' s. Love's. Cf. i. 1.91 andii. 3. 165 above. 

214. Infinite cunning. The happy emendation of Walker for the "in- 
suite comming" of the 1st folio, which is followed with slight changes in 
spelling by the other folios. Hanmer has " in suit coming." 

Modern —OX di\\\2.\y , commonplace. See on ii. 3. 2 above. Johnson was 
in doubt whether it here means "fashionable" or "meanly pretty." Mr. 
W. W. Williams conjectures " modest " for modern, and D. is inclined to 
favour that reading. 

215. Snbdned me to her rate. Ihought me to her price. 

219. Diet. If this be what S. wrote, it may be = do scant justice ; the 
metaphor being taken from the restricted diet of a sick person. Malone 
explained the passage : " may justly loathe or be weary of me, as people 
generally are of a regimen or prescribed and scanty diet." Collins and 
Steevens are perhaps right in making diet ;//^ = deny me the rights of a wife. 
Cf. iv. 3. 28 above. 

230. Skreivdly. Vilely. See on iii. 5. 65, 86 above. S. uses boggle no- 
where else, but we find boggier in A. and C. iii. 13. no. 

234. On yonr just proceeding. That is, if you tell the truth. 

235. By him. Of him. Cf. L. L. L. iv. 3. 150 : "I would not have him 
know so much by me," etc. Gr. 145. 

247. Compariio7t. Fellow; contemptuous, as often. See Tlv;//. p. 131 
(note on Your fell 07v), or M. N. D. p. 125. 

250. N^anghty. Good-for-nothing. See y1/. ^/ /'. p. 152. 

261. Derive ?ne ill will. Cf. Hen. VIII. ii. 4. 32 : " that had to him de- 
riv'd your anger," etc. 

263. Thoti hast spoken, etc. As the king elsewhere speaks in verse, 
Coll. arranges this prose as three lines (ending with canst, fine, and aside), 
but they are very lame ones. 

264. Too fine. Too full oi finesse, too artful ; like the French trop fine 
(Malone). 

282. Customer. Harlot. See 0th. p. 197. 

283. By Jove, etc. Perhaps, as Walker suggests, addressed to Lafeu. 
Cf. 289 below, where most editors insert the stage-direction '^^ Pointing to 
Lafeu:-' 

292. Owes. See on 196 above. 

293. Surety. For the verb, cf Cor. iii. i. 178: " W'e '11 surety him." 
295. Quit. Acquit. See A. Y. L. p. 169. 



ACT r. SCENE ///. l8i 

29S. Quick. Living. See Hen. V. p. 156,01- Ham. p. 262. 

299. Exorcist. One who raises spirits ; as in J. C. ii. i. 323, the only 
other instance of the word in S. Cf. exerciser in Cymb. iv. 2. 276, and 
exorcism in 2 He7i. VI. i. 4. 5. 

307. When from my finger. This does not agree with the wording of 
the letter in iii. 2. 52 fol. As has been noted in other plays, S. is often 
careless in these little matters. See /)/. TV. D. p. 122, T. N'. p. 126 (note 
on Three days), T.ofS. p. 128 (note on This seven), etc. Here, as Clarke 
suggests, the variation may be intentional : " Helena quotes from her 
husband's letter ; but, although we feel sure that she knows its every 
cruel sentence by heart, yet the very inaccuracy of the cited words serves 
to indicate the quivering of the lip that repeats them, and the shaking of 
the hand that holds out the paper containing them." 

308. Are. The folios have "is ;" corrected by Rowe. 

315. Onions. See 7\ of S. p. 128, note on An oiiion. 

316. Hatidkercher. I'he spelling in the early eds., as often. See A. 
V. L. p. 190, or K. John, p. 163. 

318. Let thy courtesies alone. Cf. M. A^. D. iv. i. 21 : " Pray you, leave 
your courtesy, good mounsieur." See also Much Ado, p. 159, note on 
Courtesies. 

2,20. Etc n. " Full " (Schmidt). Cf. ii. i. 191 above. It may be=: plain, 
freed from difficulties. 

325. More and less. The reading of the folio ; ascribed by the Camb. 
ed. (which has "or" for and) to Theo. 

326. Resolvedly. Satisfactorily, all doubts and perplexities being rC' 
sohed or removed. Cf the verb in Temp. v. i. 248 : 

"at pick'd leisure, 
Which shall be shortly, single I 11 resolve you, 
-« Which to you shall seem probable, of every 

These happen'd accidents." 

329. The king '' s a heggar, etc. Alluding to the old story of "The 
King and the Beggar," which was the subject of a ballad (to be found in 
Percy's A'eliques) and appears also to have been dramatized. Cf Rich. 
II. V. 3. 80 : 

" Our scene is alter'd from a serious thing, 
And now chang'd to The Biggar and the King.'' 

The ballad is referred to in L. L. L. i. 2. 1 14 : " Is there not a ballad, boy, 
of the King and the Beggar.^" See also Id. iv. I. 66, 2 I/en. IF. v. 3. 
106, and R. and J. ii. i. 14. 

Some editors follow Rowe in making the last six lines of the play an 
" Epilogue." In the folio they are separated from the jireceding part 
of the speech and printed in italics. Capell and others insert the stage- 
direction " Advancing.'''' 

333. Ours be your patience, eic. "Grant us your patient hearing, and 
accept our zealous efforts ; lend us your hands in applause, and take 
our hearty thanks" (Clarke). Cf. AI. N. D.\. 1.444: "Give me your 
hands;" and Temp. epil. 10: 

"But release me from my bands 
With the help of your good hands." 



1 82 NOTES. 



ADDENDA. 



OK THE Play. — This is summed up by Mr. 
P. A. Daniel, in his paper " On the Times or Durations of the Action of 
Shakspere's Plays" {Trans, of Ne7v Shaks. Soc. 1877-79, P- 170, as fol- 
lows : 

" Time of the Play, eleven days represented on the stage, with intervals. 
"Day I. Act I. sc. i. 

Interval. Bertram's journey to Court. 
'* 2. Act I. sc. ii. and iii. 

Interval. Helena's journey to Court. 
" 3. Act II. sc. i.and ii. 

Interval— iwo days. Cure of the King's malady. 
" 4. Act II. sc. iii. iv. and v. 

Interval. Helena's return to Rousillon. Bertram's jour- 
ney to Florence. 
*' 5. Act III. sc. i. and ii. 
" 6. Act HI. sc. iii. and iv. 

Interval — " some two months." 
" 7. Act III. sc. V. 

" 8. Act HI. sc. vi. and vii. ; Act IV. sc. i. ii. and iii. 
" 9. Act IV. sc. iv. 

Interval. Bertram's return to Rousillon. Helena's re- 
turn to Marseilles. 
" 10. Act IV. sc. V. ; Act V. sc. i. 
" II. Act V. sc. ii.and iii. 
"Total time, about three months.'' 

Holy seems the quarrel, etc. (iii. I. 4). — In the folio this speech is as- 
signed to " I. Loi-t/,'" but the 3d and 5th speeches are headed respec- 
tively *' French ii"." and "' Fren. G.''^ Collier, followed by White (pref- 
ace to "Riverside" ed. p. xxiii.), assumes that the "i Lord'''' is a 
Florentine, and that the others are two French envoys. Neither of these 
latter, it is said, would declare to the Duke that his quarrel seemed holy. 
White adds : " Indeed, one of them immediately says that he has no right 
to express any such opinion." But D. is probably right in taking these 
Frenchmen to belong to the number who had joined the Florentines by 
permission of their King (see i. 2. 13 fol.). It is surely nothing strange 
that one of these Frenchnien should say that he regards the Florentine 
cause as " holy," though he does not presume to express an opinion as to 
the course of the French King in declining to assist the Duke in the war. 
No stress can be laid on the prefixes to the speeches in the folio, which 
is often wrong in this respect. 



INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES 
EXPLAINED. 



abstract of success, 169. 
accordingly, 156. 
across, 147. 
act (=actiun\ 138. 
additions swell "s, 153. 
admiration (concrete , 148. 
adoptious, 136. 
advertisement, 170. 
advice, 160. 
afford you so, 166. 
after (play upon), 139. 
after well -entered soldiers, 

145. 
against ( = in the face of), 

i44. 
all 's well that ends well, 

173, 175- . 
all the rest is mute, 152. 
allow the wind, 175 
ames-ace, 152. 
ample (adverb^ 161. 
antiquiiy, 154. 
appeached, 144. 
apprehensive, 139. 
approof, 139,156. 
approved so, 138. 
approves ( = proves\ 164. 
araise. 147. 
armipotent, 170. 
artist, 151. 
as (omitted), 148. 
as (that ... as , 138, 178. 
as word, 150. 
astringer, 175. 
attends (awaits;, 152. 
authentic, 151. 
avails, 157. 

Bajazet's mule, 165. 

band (=bond), 167. 

barber's chair, like a, 150. 

barnes, 140. 

bated, 146. 

bed (verb), 155. 

beguile the supposition, 171. 

behaviours, 144. 

belike, 174. 

bestow, 145, i'j2. 



big (=proud), 142. 
blood ( = passion), 164. 
boarded, 180, 
bold ( = confident), 175. 
bond ( — dutyl, 144. 
both our mothers, 144. 
braid ( = deceituir, 167. 
braving, 139. 
brawn-buttock, 150. 
breaking ( = disbanding ), 

172. 
breathe (—exercise*. 155. 
breathing ( = exercise), 138. 
brief (noun\ 154. 
broken mouth, 152. 
broke s, 162. 
bunting, [56. 
businesses, 137. 
but ( = except', 164. 
but like (=except as), 157. 
by ( = of|, 180. 
by kind, 141. 

canary (a dance), 147. 

cap of the time, 147. 

capable of, 135, 137. 
I Capilet, 179. 
I capriccio, 155. 

captious, 144. 

carbonadoed, 174. 

careless, 154. 

case ( — flay), 164. 

catched, 144. 

causeless, 151. 

cesse, 177. 
I challenges itself, 153. 
I champion, 167. 

change ( = exchange), 159. 
j chape, 169. 

Charbon, 141. 

charge (^expense). 153. 
I check ( = rebuke\ 134. 

cheer, 158. 

choose, 153. 

chough's language, 165. 
j Christendoms, 136. 
I cites ( — proves), 145. 
j clown (professional), 140. 



I coil (=turmoiP, 146. 

come your ways, 148. 

comfortable (active , 134. 

commission, 155. 

commoner (^harlot), 179. 

companion. 180. 

company, j68. 

composition, 168. 

compt, 177. 

con him no thanks, 169. 

condition, 170. 
. congied with, 169. 

consolate, 160. 

constancies, 139. 
j content, 174. 

contract (accent), 154. 
' conversation, 145. 
' coragio! 157. 

coranto, 152. 
j corrupt the song. 142. 
I count of, 170. 
; county (recount), 164. 

cox my passion ! 176. 

credence, 160. 

Cressid's uncle, 148. 

curbed time. 156. 

curd thy blood, 143. 

curious (= careful", 138. 

curiously (-carefully , 168. 

curtal, 152. 

customer ( = harlot), iSo. 

damnable (adverb\ 168. 

dancing sword, 146. 

dare blame my weakness, 

148. 
darkly (—secretly), 168. 
day of season, 177. 
deadly (adverb), 178. 
debate it, 140. 
deboshed, 153. 180. 
delay our rebellion. 16S. 
deliverance. 148. 
derive me ill will, 180. 
dial (:^watch\ 156. 
diet, 180. 

dieted to his hour, 168. 
digested, 177. 



84 I^'DEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES EXPLAINED. 



dilemmas, 163. 

dislikest of, 153. 

dissolved ( = separated^ 139. 

dissuade succession, 161. 

diurnal ring, 148. 

dole, 154. 

dolphin, 151. 

doubling of files, 171. 

ears (=ploughs), 141. 
embossed, 164. 
embowelled of their doc- 
trine, 145. 
engaged. 178. 
enjoined (accent\ 162. 
entertainment, 162, 165. 
entrenched, 147. 
estates (= ranks), 143. 
esteem (=:estimate), 176. 
even ( = full), 181. 
even your conient, 14c. 
examined, 161. 
exorcist, iSr. 
expedient, 154. 
expressive, 147. 
extreme (accent), 160. 

facinerious, 151. 

fact, 165. 

falls (^befalls), 175. 

fancy ( -love', 154, 180. 

fated (=r fateful), 137. 

favour (^ face', 134 

fee-simple, 171. 

fetch off, 162. 

filthy officer. 161. 

fine (—-artful), 180. 

fine (--end*, 173. 

fisnomy, 174- 

fistula, 132. 

fits ( = befits), 148. 

fleshes, i68. 

fond ( — foolish), 179. 

fond done, done fond, 142. 

fools (as prophets), 141. 

for ( = because;, 161. 

for to, 179. 

forehorse to a smock, 146. 

found ( = found out), 154, 

176. 
frank ( = liberar, 138. 
French crown, 150. 
from word to word, 164. 
furnish me to, 155. 

gamester (=harlot), 179. 
garter up thy arms, 155. 
general sovereignty, 145. 
go about ( = quibble), 144. 
go to the world, 140. 
go under, 161. 
good convenience. 158. 
gossips (verb), 136. 



grass (play upon\ 174. 
great (play upon), 171. 
gross (—palpable), 144. 

handkercher, 181. 

hands (^applause), 181. 

have i' the wind. 164. 

hawking ( — hnwk-like), 135. 

heavy satisfaction, 178. 

herb of grace, 173. 

herbs, 174. 

hie jacet, 163. 

high bent, 176. 

higher, 168. 

higher Italy, 146. 

highly fed, 150. 

high-repented, 177. 

hilding, 162. 

his (=its), 138, 151. 

hold, 158. 

hold colour with, 156. 

hold (= maintain), 134, 159. 

holding, 166. 

holds him much to have, 

158. 
home (adverb), 176. 
honesty (= chastity^ 161. 
hoodman comes, 169. 
host (verb', 162. 
hov\some"er, 141. 
huswife, 151. 

I (repeated), ii;6. 

I write man, 154. 

idle ( = silly), 156, 164, 170. 

image, 150. 

important, 164. 

importing, 179. 

impositions. 172. 

in any hand. 1^13. 

in approof, 139. 

in good sadness, 170. 

in happy time, 175. 

in 's, 148. 

in most rich choice, 164. 

in sense, 137. 

in some grace, 176. 

in the default, 154. 

in their kind, 144. 

in (verb), 141. 

in ward, 132. 

inaudible and noiseless, 177. 

inform on that, 166. 

inform something, 166. 

instance ( = proot), 165. 

intenible, 144. 

inter' gatories, 170. 

into ( = in), 151. 

into (:=::upon), 145. 

jades (masculine), 155. 
jades' tricks, 174. 
Jaques (diss^-llable), 160. 



John Drum's entertainment, 

162. 
jowl, i4r. 
justified, 168. 

kept a coil with, 146. 
kicky-wicky, 155. 
kind (= nature), 141, 144. 
King and the Beegar, the, 

181. 
knowingly, 145. 

lack not to lose still, 144. 
late ( = lately), 143. 
Lavache, 131, 175. 
leaguer (= camp), 162. 
leaping into the custaid, 

156. 
left off (=given up', 145. 
let thy courtesies alone, i8i. 
lie (--lodge), 161. 
iinied, 161. 
ling. 158. 

linsey-woolsey. 165. 
list (=i boundary). 147. 
live this present hour, 169. 
livelihood, 133. 
longing ( = belonging), 167. 
look (transitive), 164. 
lordship, 179. 
lustig, 152. 

madding, 180. 

make a leg, 150. 

make it even, 150. 

make it probable need, 156. 

make ropes in si.ch a scai re, 

166. 
manifest. 1415. 

Marseilles (trisyllable), 172. 
Maudlin, 177. 
me (expletive*, 175. 
means will make means, 175. 
meant damnable, 168. 
measure (-- dance), 147. 
medicine (-physician), 147. 
mell, 170. 

mere the truth, )6r. 
merely our own traitors, 16S. 
methinks 't, 155. 
Mile-end, 171. 
militarist, 169. 
misprising, 158. 
misprision, 153. 
modern ( = ordinary ), 151, 

180. 
module, 169. 
moiety, 158. 
monarch, 135. 
monstrous (adverb), 150. 
monumental, 168. 
mood (--anger), 175. 
more replete, 154. 



INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES EXPLAINED. 185 



morns, 151. 

nioit du vinaigre ! 152. 

mortal ( = deadly), 133. 

most received star, 147. 

motion, 157. 

motive (=agent), 172, 

mounts ( — lifts), 137. 

murk, 149. 

muse (=\vonder), 157. 

music, 164. 

muster true gait, 147. 

mystery, 163. 

natural rebellion, 176. 
nature, 157. 
nauglity, 180. 
necessitied to help, 178. 
Nessus, 171. 
next ( -nearest), 141. 
nice, 175. 
note, 144. 
now-born, 154. 

O Lord, sir! 151. 
of a good wing. 136. 
of ( = as regards*, 153. 
of ( = by), 180. 
of ( = on), 162. 
of (partitive}, 156. 
officed, 160. 
officer, 161. 
on (^of), 143- 
on (repeated), 138. 
on 's, 148. 

on my particular. \<^(^. 
on your just proceeding, iSo. 
onions, i8r. 
only (=unless\ 143. 
ordinary ( — meal), 154. 
ore, 162. 
outward, 157. 
overlooking. 132. 
over-night (noun\ 160. 
owe ( = own), 146, 157, 159, 
180. 



pace, 174. 

palmer, 16 r. 

Parolles (play upon), 176. 

parting (=departing), 156. 

passage, 132. 

passport, 158. 

perfect (accent*, 171. 

persecuted, 132. 

persever, 164, 166. 

perspective, 177. 

peruse, 152. 

pilgrim (trisyllable), 161. 

pilot's glass, 149. 

jun-bi.ttock, 150. 

plausive, 139, 165. 

please it, 162. 

pluck, 134. 



Plutus, 178. 
poising us, 153. 
port (-gate , 161. 
Poysam, 141. 
practiser, 150. 
predominant, 136. 
prejudicates, 138. 
presently, 155. 
prime (=youth), 150. 
profession, 148. 
proper, 167. 
property, 150, 153. 
pudding. 151. 
puir, 176. 

quart d'ecu, 171, 176. 
quatch-butiock, 150. 
questant, 146. 
i quick ( = living\ 181. 
quick' st, 177. 
quit (=acquit), 180. 
quoted (=noted), 180. 

ravin, 159. 

reave, 178. 
j relinquished of, 151. 

remamder, 171. 

removes (=stages), 179. 

repairs, 138. 

repealed, 152. 
j repetition, 177. 
1 resolved (accent\ 150. 

resolvedly, 181 

respects ( — motives), 157. 

revives, 172. 

richest eyes, 176. 

ring-carrier, 162. 

Rousillon, 132. 138. 

ruff (of boot*, 157. 

sacrament, 169. 

saffron (in pastry), 173. 

sanctimony, 168. 

saucy, 172. 

scarre, 167. 

season (metaphor), 133. 

serve (play upon), 146. 166. 

service is no heritage, 140. 

set up your rest, 148. 

several (= separate), 140. 

shall (=\vill), 158. 
\ shrewd, 162. 

shrewdlv, 162. 180. 

sick for breathing, 138. 

similes, 176. 
i sire (dissyllable), 153. 
I sith, 179. 
, sithence, 143. 

smack, 165. 

smock, 146. 

smoked, 164. 

snipt-taffeta fellow, 173. 
I snuff, 139. 



solely (^altogether), 135. 

solemn, 169. 

Spanish sword, 166. 

spark, 146. 

spirit (monosyllable), 149. 

sprat, 164. 

Spurio, 147. 

square our guess by shows, 

149. 
St. Jaques' pilgrim, i6o. 
staggers (noun), 154. 
stall this, 143. 
stead, 165, 179. 
steal an egg out of a cloister, 

171. 
steal (play upon), 160. 
SI ill-piecing, 159. 
straight (adverb*, 165. 
strive upon, 144. 
stomach, 163. 
stronger part, 169. 
subdued me to her rate, iSo. 
subscribed, 17S. 
success ( = issue), 145, i6_j. 
suggest ( = tempt), 174. 
suggestions, 161. 
surety (verb), 180. 
sweet marjoram, 173. 
sweet verbal brief, 179. 
sword to dance with, 146. 

table (=tablet), 135. 

taffeta, 150. 

take order, 167. 

take place, 135. 

Tartar's bosom, 172. 

tax (= censure), 134, 149, 180. 

that (omitted), 158. 

theoric, 169. 

thitherward, 158. 

though. 170. 

Tib's rush for Tom's fore« 

finger, 150. 
tincture, 178. 
title (=want of title), 153. 
to ( = compared with', 155, 

161. 
to friend, 179. 
to (omitted), 143, 148. 
to the particular, etc., 170. 
toll for this, 179. 
too-much. 159. 
took ( = taken), 149. 
toj) ( = head), 138. 
tortured body, 147. 
traitress, 136. 
travails in, 153. 
trick ( = trait), 135. 
triple ( = third), 148. 
tucket, 161. 
two pile and a half, 174. 

undone (play upon), 171. 



i86 INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES EXPLAINED. 



unhappy, 174. 
unseasoned, 134. 
use ( = habit), 175. 
usurping his spurs, 169. 

valiant approof, 156. 
validity, 179. 
vileness is so. 153. 
villanous saffron, 173. 
Virtue's steely bones, 135. 
virtuous qualities, 132. 

wagon, 173. 



wanton siege, 164. 

was run, 1 58. 

wear (=weary), 175. 

weigh (=^value), 161. 

well fed, 154. 

well found, 148. 

what in time proceeds, 167. 

whatsome'er, 161. 

whence, 159. 

white death, 152- 

who (=which), 169. 

whom, 160. 

window of lattice, 154. 



with (=by), 173, 175. 
with his inducement, 158. 
woman me, 158. 
woodcock ( = fooP, 166. 
worst of worst, 149. 
worthy, 167. 
worthy the note, 162. 
writ as little beard, 152. 
write (=declare', 161. 

yet I pray you, 172. 
yet (transposed), 179. 
yield, 157. 




Great Mars, I put myself into thy file" (iii. 3. 9). 



^nteriop^ 



SHAKESPEARE. 

WITH NOTES BY WM. J. ROLFJi, A.M. 



The Mercliaut of Venice. 

The Tempest. 

Julius t'JBsar. 

Hamlet. 

As You Lilie it. 

Henry the Fifth. 

Macbeth. 

Henry the Eighth. 

A Midsummer- Night's Dream 

Uichard tlie Second. 

Richard the Third. 

Much Ado About Nothing. 

Antony and Cleopatra. 

Komeo and Juliet. 

Othello. 

Twelftli Night. 

The Winter's Tale. 

King John. 

Henry IV. Part I. 

Henry IV. Part If. 



King Lear. 

The Taming of the Shrew. 

All 's Well That Ends Well. 

Coriolanus. 

Comedy of Errors. 

Cymbeline. 

Merry Wives of Windsor. 

Measure for Measure. 

Two (jcntlemen of Verona. 

Love's Labour 's Lost. 

Timon of Alliens. 

Henry VI. Part I. 

Henry VI. Part II. 

Henry YI. Part III. 

Troilus and Cressida. 

Pericles, Prince of Tyre. 

The Two Noble Kinsmen. 

Poems. 

Sonnets. 

Titus Andronicus. 



Illustrated. i6mo, Cloth, 56 cents per vol. ; Paper, 40 cents pet 



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FRIENDLY EDITION, complete in 20 vols., i6mo, Cloth, $30 oo; 
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In the preparation of this edition of the English Classics it has been 
the aim to adapt them for school and home reading, in essentially the 
same way as Greek and Latin Classics are edited for educational pur 
poses. The chief requisites are a pure text (expurgated, if necessary), 
and the notes needed for its thorough explanation and illustration. 

Each of Shakespeare's plays is complete in one volume, and is pre- 
ceded by an Introduction containing the " History of the Play," the 
"Souices of the Plot," aiifi "Critical Comments on the Play." 



From Horace Howard Furness, Ph.D., LL.D., Editor of the ''■ Nnv 
Variorum Shakespeare.^'' 
No one can examine these volumes and fail to be impressed with the 
conscientious accuracy and scholarly completeness with which they are 
edited. The educational purposes for which the notes are written Mr. 
Rolfe never loses sight of, but like "a well-experienced archer hits the 
mark his eve doth level at." 



Rolfe^s Shakespeare. 



From F. J. FURNIVALL, Director of the N'cw Shaksfere Society, London. 
The merit I see in Mr. Rolfe's school editions of Shakspere's Plays 
over those most widely used in England is that Mr, Rolfe edits the plays 
as works of a poet, and not only as productions in Tudor English. Some 
editors think that all they have to do with a play is to state its source 
and explain its hard words and allusions; they treat it as they would a 
charter or a catalogue of household furniture, and then rest satisfied. 
But Mr. Rolfe, while clearing up all verbal difficuhies as carefully as any 
Dryasdust, always adds the choicest extracts he can find, on the spirit 
and special "note" of each play, and on the leading characteristics of its 
chief personages. He does not leave the student without help in getting 
at Shakspere's chief attributes, his characterization and poetic power. 
And every practical teacher knows that while every boy can look out 
hard words in a lexicon for himself, not one in a score can, unhelped, 
catch points of and realize character, and feel and express the distinctive 
individuality of each play as a poetic creation. 

From Prof. EDWARD DoWDEN, LL.D., of the University of Dublin, Au- 
thor of '■^ Shakspere : His Mind and A/t.'^ 

I incline to think that no edition is likely to be so useful for school and 
home reading as yours. Your notes contain so much accurate instruc- 
tion, with so little that is superfluous ; you do not neglect the aesthetic 
study of the play ; and in externals, paper, type, binding, etc., you make 
a book "pleasant to the eye" (as well as "to be desired to make one 
wise") — no small matter, I think, with young readers and with old. 

From Edwin A. Abbott, M.A., Author of '' Shakespearian Grammar^ 
I have not seen any edition that compresses so much necessary infor- 
mation into so small a space, nor any that so completely avoids the com- 
mon faults of commentaries on Shakespeare — needless repetition, super- 
fluous explanation, and unscholar-like ignoring of difficulties. 

From Hiram Corson, M.A., Professor of Anglo-Saxon and English 
Literature, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. V. 

In the way of annotated editions of separate plays of Shakespeare, for 
educational purposes, I know of none quite up to Rolfe's. 



Rolfe^s Shakespeare. 



Fro7n Prof. F. J. Child, of Harvard University. 

I read your " Merchant of Venice " with my class, and found it in every 
respect an excellent edition. I do not agree with my friend White in the 
opinion that Shakespeare requires but few notes — that is, if he is to be 
thoroughly understood. Doubtless he may be enjoyed, and many a hard 
place slid over. Your notes give all the help a young student requires, 
and yet the reader for pleasure will easily get at just what he wants. 
^ ou have indeed been conscientiously concise. 

Under date of July 25, 1879, Prof. Chii.d adds: Mr. Rolfe's editions 
of plays of Shakespeare are very valuable and convenient books, whether 
for a college class or for private study. I have used them with my 
students, and I welcome every addition that is made to the series. They 
show care, research, and good judgment, and are fully up to the time in 
scholarship. I fully agree with the opinion that experienced teachers 
have expressed of the excellence of these books. 

From Rev. A. P. Peabody, D.D., Professor in Harvard University. 

I regard your own work as of the highest merit, while you have turned 
the labors of others to the best possible account. I want to have the 
higher classes of our schools introduced to Shakespeare chief of all, and 
then to other standard English authors ; but this cannot be done to ad- 
vantage unless under a teacher of equally rare gifts and abundant leisure, 
or through editions specially prepared for such use. I trust that you 
will have the requisite encouragement to proceed with a work so hap- 
pily begun. 

From the Examiner and Chronicle, N. Y. 

We repeat what we have often said, that there is no edition of Shake- 
speare which seems to us preferable to Mr Rolfe's. As mere specimens 
of the printer's and binder's art they are unexcelled, and their other 
merits are equally high. Mr. Rolfe, having learned by the practical ex- 
perience of the class-room what aid the average student really needs in 
order to read Shakespeare intelligently, has put just that amount of aid 
into his notes, and no more. Having said what needs to be said, he stops 
there. It is a rare virtue in the editor of a classic, and we are propor- 
tionately grateful for it. 



Rolfe's Shakespeare. 



Frovi (he N. V. Times. 

This work has been done so well that it could hardly have been done 
better. It shows throughout knowledge, taste, discriminating judgment, 
and, what is rarer and of yet higher value, a sympathetic appreciation of 
the poet's moods and purposes. 

From the Pacific School yotcrual, San Francisco. 

This edition of Shakespeare's plays bids fair to be the most valuable 
aid to the study of English literature yet published. For educational 
purposes it is beyond praise. Each of the plays is printed in large clear 
type and on excellent paper. Every difficulty of the text is clearly ex- 
plained by copious notes. It is remarkable how many new beauties one 
may discern in Shakespeare with the aid of the glossaries attached to 
these books. . . . Teachers can do no higher, better work than to incul- 
cate a love for the best literature, and such books as these will best aid 
them in cultivating a pure and refined taste. 

From the Christian Union, N. Y. 

Mr.W. J. Rolfe's capital edition of Shakespeare ... by far the best edi- 
tion for school and parlor use. We speak after some practical use of it 
in a village Shakespeare Club. The notes are brief but useful ; and the 
necessary expurgations are managed with discriminating skill. 

Fi'om the Academy, London. 

Mr. Rolfe's excellent series of school editions of the Plays of Shake- 
speare . . . they differ from some of the English ones in looking on the 
plays as something more than word - puzzles. They give the student 
helps and hints on the characters and meanings of the plays, while the 
word-notes are also full and posted up to the latest date. . . . Mr. Rolfe 
also adds to each of his books a most useful " Index of Words and 
Phrases Explained." 



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Master of the High School, Cambridge, Mass. Illus- 
trated. Square i6mo. Paper, 40 cents; Cloth, 56 centSa 
{Unifo?tn with Rolfe' s Shakespeare^ 



Mr. Rolfe has done his work in a manner that comes as near to per- 
fection as man can approach. He knows his subject so well that he is 
c inii')etent_t() instruct all in it ; and readers will find an immense amount 
of knowledge in his elegant volume, all set forth in the most admirable 
order, and breathing the most liberal and enlightened spirit, he being a 
warm appreciator of the divinity of genius. — Boston Traveller. 

The great merit of these books lies in their carefully edited text, and in 
the fulness of their explanatory notes. Mr. Rolfe is not satisfied with 
simply expounding, but he explores the entire field of English literature, 
and therefrom gathers a multitude of illustrations that are interesting in 
themselves and valuable as a commentary on the text. He not only in- 
structs, but stimulates his readers to fresh exertion ; and it is this stimu- 
lation that makes his labor so productive in the school-room. — Saturday 
Eveniiif^ Gazttte, Boston. 

Mr. William J. Rolfe, to whom English literature is largely indebted 
for annotated and richly illustrated editions of several of Shakespeare's 
Plays, has treated the " Select Poems of Thomas Gray " in the same way 
— ^just as he had previously dealt with the best of Goldsmith's poems. — 
Philadelphia Press. 

Mr. Rolfe's edition of Thomas Gray's select poems is marked by the 
same discriminating taste as his other classics. — Springfield Republican. 

Mr. Rolfe's rare abilities as a teacher and his fine scholarly tastes ena- 
ble him to prepare a classic like this in the best manner for school use. 
There could be no better exercise for the advanced classes in our schools 
than the critical study of our best authors, and the volumes that Mr. Rolfe 
has prepared will hasten the time when the study of mere form will give 
place to the study of the spirit of our literature. — Louisville Courier- 
Journal. 

An elegant and scholarly little volume. — Christian Intelligencer, N. Y. 



Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. 

51^^^ The above works are for sale by nil booksellers, or iJiey will be sent by Harper 
& Brothers to atiy address on receipt of price as quoted. If ordered sent by 
mail, 10 per cent, should be added to the price to cover cost of postage. 



department 
of the ^ntsrior. 



